


Thrown Into Secrets

by Bees_Stars_and_Snow



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Backstory, Big Gay Love Story, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Steve Rogers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecurity, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers-centric, M/M, Marvel Universe, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 02:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 74,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21154235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bees_Stars_and_Snow/pseuds/Bees_Stars_and_Snow
Summary: Steven Rogers was man out of his time, but he was finally getting used to the world in 2014 when Tony, as always, had to do something stupid. After Tony not-so-accideally activated an ancient Asgardian rune stone, Steve was sent back in time, to lean about earth shattering secrets that his parents didn't think to tell him and he didn't even know about. Stuck in a body that looked almost exactly like his own, but horrifyingly wasn't, Steve learns that he had a twin brother, he wasn't the only one the serum was used on, it was his fault the whole time that Bucky had fallen off of the train, but most importantly, Steve learned that he had been the one to create the Winter Soldier. Living a life incredibly similar to his first life in the US army, he wonders what would happen if he was just unable to go back to 2014 and the Avengers. Maybe, he could just stay where he was in the beginning, despite being on the opposite side of the war.





	1. Tony almost blows up the Avengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all you lovely ladies, gents, and hoomans, here are the links to some very knowledgeable websites that I acquired information from:  
http://www.paper-dragon.com/1939/slang.html   
https://www.alphadictionary.com/slang/?term&beginEra=1940&endEra=1950&clean=false&submitsend=Search

Steve groaned as he woke up, his entire body sore from the explosion that had just occurred, the ringing in his ears sharp and unwanted. He sat up slowly, rubbing his head while trying to suppress his blinding headache and slowly opened his eyes, sun shining straight onto his face. Looking around, he sighed and shook his head, angry at Tony for fiddling around with old asgardian technology when Thor had specifically told him not to. Slowly standing up, Steve looked around, apparently having been blasted out of Avenger’s tower and into Central Park by the giant explosion since he was surrounded by large trees. Dusting off his pants, he looked around, the sounds around him suspiciously quiet for New York City at noon, and slowly started walking forward while rubbing his bruised shoulder. After a few minutes of walking, he became suspicious, definitely no longer in the kind of New York he had come to know. Coming across a river, he looked down, shocked at what he saw. He had a beard and was dressed in a worn down German military uniform from the 1940’s despite having been clean shaven and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans earlier in the day, helping in Tony Stark’s lab with Natasha and Bruce. Tony had been fiddling around with some old Asgardian tech that Thor had brought to Earth in the attempt at finding out what the runes meant, not even Heimdal knowing what it would do when activated. Thor had warned Tony not to try and activate it since it would probably summon some sort of ancient monster, but of course, Tony did his best to do just that despite Bruce coming in and attempting to stop him, eventually drawing in Natasha who was excited to see what it would do. Looking around, he started walking again in a different direction, following the river and slowly hearing sounds of people, or more specifically laughing, clanging, and some shouting, sounds that sounded suspiciously familiar to his ears. Steve picked up his pace, the familiar sounds drawing him in as he pushed through the thick brush and foliage, searching desperately for sounds that sounded like HOME. Rushing out into a clearing haphazardly, he stopped as he stood in the middle of a military camp filled with soldiers dressed in uniforms and tents scattered around on the grass. Suddenly everyone went silent and murmurs rippled through the camp and Steve froze in his tracks, looking around at a German encampment from World War 2, and then it hit him like a brick. He had been sent to the past.

Suddenly one of the soldiers stood up and called out in German, “He is back!” causing everyone in the camp to stand up and cheer, the crowd surging forward and ushering Steve towards the largest tent in the clearing while everyone congratulated him and patted him on the back and arms. He was incredibly confused at this point, completely lost in his thoughts. Apparently he had been sent back to World War 2, but he was part of the German military and nobody here knew what Captain America looked like, or Captain America didn’t exist. He just went with it, being pushed through the tent flaps to face whatever it was he was supposed to. Stumbling just a bit as the crowd surged, he almost fell over while walking into the tent, but quickly steadied himself and stood at attention because he was obviously supposed to be seeing someone important. Looking up, he saw Johann Schmidt standing in front of him with a slightly amused face looking down at him. Steve almost panicked, but it seemed as if everything was different at the moment, so he held out his hand with fake confidence and smiled grimly, acknowledging someone who was most likely a higher rank than him. “Herr Schmidt.” 

To Steve's surprise, Schmidt clasped his hand firmly, looking relieved and almost happy. "I am extremely relieved that you were able to make it back here Captain, I thought that after the last mission, you were lost to us. It is good to see you back here alive and well." 

Steve nodded, sweat dripping down his neck, and grinned with a chuckle. "You should know me better than that by now. I always get the job done some way, don't I?" 

Steve froze under Schmidt's stern gaze, terrified that he just blew his cover, but then the senator let go of his hand and nodded, relaxing a bit. "Like always, you are correct Captain Rogers. You are the perfect weapon after all. Too bad we couldn't find a way to replicate the serum that gave you your powers before the last vial was destroyed." Steve nodded politely, even more confused as to what was happening now. Was he really Steven Grant Rogers here or was it some type of alternate universe that the Asgardian technology had blasted him into? "-tain Rogers. Are you paying any attention?" Steve snapped back to reality and nodded, his face white as a sheet. Schmidt looked at him fiercely, studying him closely. "You should retire and get some sleep. It seems as if those days stuck in the forest after the last mission has you shaken up."

Steve swallowed thickly, relieved to be out of the sharp gaze of the thin man in front of him. "Thank you Sir. I would like that very much."

Nodding, Schmidt waved Steve out of the tent and he slowly walked out, having no idea where he was going, so he just turned left. He felt a hand on his arm and he looked over to see the man that had stood up when he had entered the clearing, smiling at him kindly. The man had on a uniform almost identical to Steve's, but unlike his, the man's uniform was loose and non restricting due to the fact that it actually fit him and Steve's was just a bit too small. He had dark brunette hair that looked just the right amount of messy and was comfortably past the acceptable length for a man in the military, but not long to the point where he would be forced to cut it any time soon or have the ability to tie it up. His hair framed his pale face that had a small splattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks and slightly drifted in front of his hazel eyes. Steve felt his face flush as he looked into the man's eyes, the honey color mixed lightly with blues and greens, and suddenly, he wished that he could take a picture of just how perfect this man looked because despite the eye color being wrong and the fact that he had more freckles, all Steve's brain was doing screaming the name Bucky. "Grant, your tent is in the other direction. Come on. I'll take you."

"I get my own tent?" Before Steve could think, he just let it slip on accident, and he mentally slapped himself.

The man just laughed and looked at the nervous soldier up and down with those ridiculously defined eyes. "Dear Lord. You look like shit. What did they do to you that you forgot that you get your own tent? You have gotten your own tent for years, after your meeting with that mustached tyrant and got upgraded to 'favorite lap dog'. From the look of you, nine days lost in the forest didn't help."

Sighing, Steve just smiled, feeling more relaxed after coming into contact with and just being around this man who reminded him so much of Bucky. "I look like shit? Ha. I feel like I'm dying from a horse kick to the face." The man laughed and Steve laughed with him, feeling less out of time and more like he was back where he belonged. "On a more serious note though, I feel as if I don't remember anything here anymore. It's more complicated than it looks, being on my own, not knowing I would live long enough to make it back here." Steve played on the fact that "he" was lost in the forest for about a week.

"Oh, stop being such a dolly, Grant. At least you remember me, after all, I've been your pal since we were kids." The man paused. "You still remember me right?"

Steve scoffed, adding as much sarcasm as he could to draw out an answer. "No, of course I don't. You're just a random fat-head I let boss me around."

The brunette scoffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. "I can't believe you forgot about me! Klaus! Your best buddy! Your comrade! Your partner in crime! Your better half! Your life! Your everything!" He pretended to sob, then stopped immediately and gestured to a tent. "Well, this one is yours pal. I hope you feel better, you really do look like you haven't slept for the whole week you were gone. Get some rest. You will probably need it for tomorrow, since you have gotten back to us, we will be packing up and going back to base. Soon after, our LadyBirds will be coming back to us." Klaus sighed and smiled. “It would not have been a pleasant experience telling them that you had disappeared.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't tell, this probably wasn't what you were expecting. To be honest, the idea was a dream, but I scrapped the dream and did my own damn thing thank you very much.


	2. Steve wanders around in 1942

Steve waved as Klaus walked away, the feeling of fear creeping back into his chest as he wondered what he would need a female bird for. Stepping into the tent, he saw things he didn't expect to see in there, for one, there were colored shards of light dancing on the inside of the tent, a sliver of light shining through a rip in the tent's fabric and bouncing off of a ball made of colorful glass attached to the ceiling. There was a side desk covered with folders and papers and pens all organized nicely, books about all types of subjects on a shelf above it, built onto the desk with two tall stacks of books piled onto the already existing layer, and a closet with drawers. Something about the small tent felt cozy and comfortable, almost like a home, but it also felt strange to Steve, almost as if he was intruding on something that he wasn't supposed to see. It was like walking into someone else's life, but he went against his better judgement and started searching the place. It was a simple yet complicated set up, everything having a specific place in exact spots, so he made sure to put everything back where he took it from. Looking through all of the books, he found subjects from anything on advanced sciences, mathematics, architectural designs, to human behaviors, kinesiology, running businesses, global studies, foreign languages, criminal justice, engineering, culinary arts, and communications. The files and papers were all plans for past missions, being neatly dated on the top left corner of the folders, and when Steve started looking through them, he got everything he ever needed to know about the person he was in this reality or whenever he was. His name was Grant Steven Rogers, easy to remember, and he was a spy and skilled assassin for the German military, having been in direct contact with Johann Schmidt and Adolf Hitler directly for all of his given missions. The current year was 1942, a little bit after the year when Steve had first gotten the super soldier serum and a few years from landing himself in ice, but according to the mission records, the serum was first injected into Grant Rogers in 1933, when his adopted father stole it when Grant was dangerously ill and at risk of dying. Steve quickly took out the oldest mission report and started reading through all of them in order. Grant Rogers was born in Brooklyn New York, on July 4th, a sick and weak baby with an equally weak twin brother who disappeared without a trace or name to track him down. Grant was sent to Germany with a family friend, but that friend died, leaving Grant to be taken to an orphanage when he was nearing a year of age, only to be adopted by a German scientist and his wife. He quickly grew up, becoming friends with Klaus, his father half english, half french with the name of Antoine Saint-Expuréy, and mother, Louise Potts, half German half english. Although Grant was raised to believe that he was completely German, he became increasingly doubtful and very sick. In 1933, his adopted father stole an incomplete super soldier serum from his coworker, Abraham Erskine, and injected it into a 13 year old Grant who became just like any other child of his age, his sickness no longer slowing him down. The boy grew into a young man who enlisted into the German army in 1937 due to a strong loyalty to his country and was immediately put into contact with scientists and weapon engineers due to his incredibly analytical mind and heightened agility, only later figuring out just what the super soldier serum was and reporting it to his superiors. Late 1938, he began contact with Schmidt to determine his possible futures in the military as Klaus enlisted. Grant started his work as a professional spy soon after, his first ever mission to confirm his loyalty, was an order to kill his traitor of an adopted father, easily completed with the knowledge that he was adopted. He succeeded in his mission without his adopted mother or two younger sisters ever finding out that it was him. Grant completed mission after mission flawlessly and with ease, learning any skills he would need to use from gardening to quantum physics, all while spending his free time and nights in the Red Room, the place where Natasha was to be trained to be an assassin and spy in the future. He had acquired contact with the secret organization by himself, striking a deal with them that assured that he would be able to learn how to fight there with none of the nasty strings attached. It was the one thing that he had kept hidden from his superiors.

Steve looked up from the papers he was pouring over, his eyes in pain from straining so hard in the fading light, so he rummaged around in the desk drawers, finding more reports dated closer and closer to the present day, but otherwise, he found an old oil lamp and a metal box that was locked tightly. Lighting the lamp, Steve kept reading through the reports, learning just how stuffy and rigid Grant Rogers was, not having an ounce of compassion as he wrote each and every detail of his missions on three pages of paper at the least, front and back, replaying on paper the gruesome scenes of his assassinations, from the way the blood splattered to the type of bullets he used to the angle calculations he used to target his victim. Then, the reports just stopped, picking up almost three months later. Steve searched all of the drawers for the next report, but he didn't find anything that made sense, just a folder with a single page of paper in it. It wasn't dated, but all of the folders were in the order that they happened, and it was the only one in the three month gap. The paper was written on with dark reddish brown smears with smudged fingerprints and droplets in the same color, but unlike the usual neat, tiny writing, it was messy and giant. Steve could barely read it, but when he did, it wasn't the best news. "They know about the Red Room." Apparently Schmidt or someone had found out about Grant's little trips to the Red Room in secret and had shut down the operations in the form of -most likely- torturing him for months as punishment for lying directly to Adolf Hitler's mustached face. When the folders continued, the reports had just as much information as before, but the writing was shaky and uneven, the punishment for lying probably causing permanent damage. 

Steve paused and looked down at his arm, if he had come back to the past as someone else, then did that mean that he was that person in all aspects? Steve stood up, unbuttoning his uniform and taking off the jacket, going to the closet and opening the doors to hang it up. The closet was filled with clothes, not much variation, but clothes nonetheless. Hanging up the jacket, Steve took out a short sleeved white shirt, and took a deep breath, hoping that he wasn't Grant Rogers completely. Taking off his button up shirt, he looked down at the hundreds of small scars littering his whole torso and arms, giant carved out scars on his forearms proving that there was some definite damage to his arms. Putting on the clean shirt, he hung up the dirty button up in the closet, closing it and walking back to the desk to pick up another file and read it. Sitting back, he read through more and more files, finally understanding the LadyBirds reference that Klaus had mentioned earlier as he read about all of the missions after the incident with the Red Room. Every mission spoke of the team that Grant had worked with, a group of special operative assassins called the "Birds" that were known only by the names of a deadly type of bird, each of them participating in their respective missions along with him. The only thing found in the files about the special operatives were the cover names of each member. Red Tailed Hawk, Snowy Owl, Peregrine Falcon, Northern Harrier, and Golden Eagle who Steve assumed was Grant Rogers. Reading through the files, Steve tried to get more information about the Birds until he got to one from around ten months ago that was unusually thin. The report said that their superiors were giving Grant a solo mission to infiltrate the United States military for a long term mission in the 107th infantry regiment. Apparently, it had gone well in the beginning for a month and a half, but was dropped immediately in a flaming pit of failure, becoming the only mission Grant Rogers had ever failed. The only official report of the encounter was classified and locked up in Adolf Hitler's secure vault never to be opened by anyone. Steve was disappointed to not know what happened to the mission, but it did give a date that the mission failed with no explanation. Freezing in the chair, he stared at the date for what felt like forever, the breath stuck in his chest, reading it over and over again to confirm what he already knew. It was the same date that he had received the super soldier serum. He gave a sharp laugh, almost humorless, and he just sat there for a moment, scratching his new beard, amused by the fact that a mission solely failed because the spy had seen what the serum could actually do. Steve just shook his head and went back to reading, quickly catching up due to less missions and getting to the present date, or at least the mission that happened ten days ago. It was in infiltration mission, get into the enemy base, place a few bombs, get out, then kaboom. Steve suspected something had happened during the mission, so he searched through his own memory for dates connected to the most recent file's date. He could only remember one specific mission anywhere in the current month and nothing really happened, he was just sent to a US base with Howard Stark to test some new items, and he had accidentally messed up a gray line on the ground, later figuring out that it was gunpowder when a German soldier had to sneak back into the premises to relight the line of powder where it had failed to continue. It was too late to stop the bomb from going off, but Steve had stopped it from lighting the other two explosives that would have destroyed the rest of the military base. They had lost the German soldier, but he had been shot in the chest twice and stomach once, so he had died quickly. Steve had followed the blood through the woods until he lost the trail at a river that would have easily whisked any corpse away within seconds. Freezing momentarily for the second time that night, Steve ripped off his shirt and touched three round scars that still hurt when he brushed his fingers over them, two on the left side of his chest, one on the right side of his stomach. He put his shirt back on, and slouched in the chair, groaning and rubbing his face with both hands. So both his real life and this life was connected somehow, which means that there was a Captain America running around out there with the same face, body, and history as him, but it was actually just Steve from the past that had no idea that Steve from the future was actually a Hydra assassin? He was so confused that his brain couldn't physically handle it, and it just shorted out and gave up on the thought, going back to reading missions. Taking a deep breath, Steve looked through the rest of the recorded future missions and flipped through two copies of the same reports, one to keep and one to turn in, which meant that from now on, until he figured out a way back to 2014, he was going to have to write two five page mission reports for each file. Steve groaned at the thought, slamming his head on the desk and causing the metal box he had forgotten about to go crashing to the ground. Luckily the ground was grass so it wasn't a big crash. Curious to what was inside, he picked it up and tried to open the lid to no avail due to the fact that it was locked. Looking around the room, Steve lightly shook the box next to his ear, hearing a light thump every time something hit the metal walls. Putting the box down, he searched through the desk again, shuffling gently through the papers and files, looking for a key to open the box. He spent a few minutes looking around in the closet and around the bed, but started knocking on the legs of the desk and closet to see if any of the wood was hollow. Finding nothing, he just sighed and laid down on the ground to get a different angle on things, looking at the slightly spinning ball of colored glass that was glimmering quietly in the dim light of the old lamp and sparkling like water. Watching the splotches of light dance around the tent made Steve realize just how tired he really was and how much his body, or Grant's body, throbbed in pain. As his eyes closed slowly, he looked through his eyelashes and saw it, a little spot in the spinning glass that stayed dark, getting up, he reached his hand up and felt a small hole in the top of the spiky colorful ball, so he unhooked it from the ceiling and tipped it over in his hand to reveal a tiny key about half the size of his pinky finger. Hooking the ball back onto the ceiling, he took the key and slipped it perfectly into the lock on the box, slowly opening up the lid. Picking up two books, a small sewing kit, and a watch, he had a hard time taking out the box in the bottom since it fit so perfectly. One book had a small drawing of a blonde little boy in a green jumper standing on a moon only about twice his size with the words Le Petit Prince written at the top in cursive, and the other was a very thick book with just a worn, black cover that had nothing on it. Steve picked up the flat cardboard box first, deciding to save the books for last so that he would have more time to read them later, then leaned back in his chair to open the lid. Pulling on it for a bit, Steve expected to find something that fit the personality he put together from the detailed descriptions of multiple assassinations, like pictures of the victims or something to prove that Grant Rogers was a coldblooded monster with no heart, but what he found was so different that Steve nearly cried. What rested in the box was the contents of a loving and caring man hiding everything on the inside, but so talented at hiding it that nobody could tell. Steve sat up straight in the chair and placed the box on the table, picking up every item one by one, starting with a stack of paper scraps all tied up in a bundle. Untying the bundle, Steve looked at the little pictures drawn and scribbled on the papers, pictures drawn of the same couple of figures with a dull pencil, two little girls sometimes depicted with a woman, sometimes just the woman, sometimes a man with glasses and a beard, then the most common one, Klaus. There were dozens of pictures in the bundle, but over half of them were just of Klaus at different ages and angles, shaded differently, or sometimes with light colors over the gray of the pencil, or maybe it was just his eyes, the shine looking as if it was catching the light of the lamp, glittering in the wavering flame. Carefully tying the bundle back together, he put it back where he got it, then he picked up three envelopes, two that were filled, one that was only halfway, he read the German words on the three of them, one by one. Klaus's Book 1. Klaus's Book 2. Klaus's Book 3. Looking into the third envelope that wasn't sealed, Steve saw a wad of dollar bills and coins. Grant had apparently been saving up to get his best friend something nice in the form of a very expensive book, but Steve had no clue to what book it could be to be that expensive. With the amount of money that was in those envelopes, any regular book could have been bought three times by now in 2015, so how valuable was this book that Klaus wanted? Steve put the envelopes back in the place that he found them and gently took out a pressed red rose with a piece of paper tied to it, spinning the flattened stem between his fingers and looking at it from many different angles. Taking off the paper, he read the little note on it that was actually a quote he had heard before. "You may not be perfect, you are flawed like everyone else, but the only thing that matters is that you are perfect to me." Steve smiled softly, finally understanding just what was going on. He carefully put the rose back in its place and picked up a stack of pictures that were well worn, but looked as if they were loved, but not treated badly. Again, most of the pictures consisted of Klaus, whether he was alone or with a child that looked just like Steve when he was a kid that he suspected was Grant, but anyone could tell that when the two of them were together, both of them were happier than could be. There were a few more pictures, Grant with two girls that were the same as the drawings that Steve assumed were his little sisters, Grant with the woman in the drawings, Grant with the man in glasses, all of them his family. There was a photo of all five of them to confirm that they were Grant's adopted family, but they all looked so close that the only clue you would have to give any idea that he was different was the fact that he had blonde hair and blue eyes when the rest of the family had dark hair with brown or hazel eyes. Then, there was one picture that had a corner worn off of it from being held so many times that consisted of two tiny baby boys with blonde hair being held by a woman, all covered up in a pale green blanket and both of them looking up at her with blue eyes. Steve picked up a scrap of pale green cloth the size of his hand and looked back at the picture, recognising the woman as his own mother and the scrap of cloth, the same color as the one he had carried around for years after his parents had passed. Shocked as he noticed the sun coming through the small slit in the tent fabric, Steve put the scrap of cloth and the picture back into the box, taking the giant question that had just arisen, and shoving it into his subconscious for a little while longer because his brain couldn't physically handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grant Rogers is a gay magnet. The spinning ball of rainbow glass us a beacon to the non-straits. Possibly. Or people just like his dumb bitch energy. Also, if I see any hate for my Ladies I will steal your ribs and throw them off a cliff.


	3. Steve fucks up by almost kissing a guy

Taking a deep breath, Steve had to close the box, not having enough time to look at the rest of the objects and little scraps of paper in it before he had to put it away with the two books and watch. Taking a little bit of string from the sewing kit that was also from the metal box, he snapped off a bit of thread and tied it to the key so that he could hang it around his neck, then put away the kit, locking the metal box and putting it back into the drawer in the desk. Needing to clear his head, he walked over to the closet, changing into something more comfortable, and walked outside, the sun just barely breaking the sky with a bit of morning gray. Stretching a bit, he nearly walked into Klaus who was walking out of the tent he shared with another soldier in the army and he let out a surprised puff of air as he took a couple steps back.

Klaus looked at Steve with a strange look in his eyes. "What are you doing out here? I didn't think you were coming with me this morning since you looked so tired yesterday." He looked at Steve, worry clear in his stunningly beautiful eyes. "Grant." He placed a gentle hand on Steve's arm. "Please tell me you didn't spend the whole night working again."

Steve flinched away from the hand, terrified at how much Grant and Klaus's relationship reminded him of his and Bucky's. "Of course I didn't. I promise." It physically hurt him to lie to his only friend that wasn't even really his friend, but Klaus had eyes just like Bucky's and it was impossible not to look at them the same way. 

Klaus just sighed and started walking, Steve quickly following him, and he started some lighter conversation. "So, I didn't know you owned anything with short sleeves. I thought you were strictly a guy who only wore things that covered everything to the wrist." 

Steve shrugged. "I was warm."

Klaus chuckled. "Grant, you never get warm. You would still wear long sleeves in the Amazon Rainforest if you ever went."

Steve scoffed as the two of them started jogging. "I seriously doubt that I would. I would be sweating so much I would flip my wig! What would your excuse be though?"

Klaus looked confused. "My excuse to wear long sleeves in the Rainforest?"

Steve smiled. "No. Your excuse to go."

Klaus paused for a moment as they picked up the pace of their jog. "I don't think that I actually want to go to the Rainforest. Too many bugs. I can deal with crocodiles and wild cats, but man sized bugs are where I draw the line. I want to go to New York City. I heard that there is an inventor from America who is an absolute genius. Just last year, he got a car to fly!"

Steve laughed out loud, thinking about how Howard Stark had done his best. "Come on Klaus! You don't really believe that do you? Mr. Stark only got that car to fly for a few seconds or so. Besides, I don't think that's where the future is going." Steve grinned, maybe he could help out a friend, just a little bit. "Sticking with Mr. Stark is a good idea, just don't count on any flying cars. I'll make you a deal. I get you to New York and you get yourself in with Mr. Stark, you got me? He's a pretty good guy in my book, you've got a chance in his company" 

Klaus laughed lightly, both of them at a full sprint now. "If you get me to New York, it would be a miracle! I swear it would be the most amazing thing to ever happen!"

Steve laughed jokingly and grinned. "What can I say, you're my pal! My best buddy! My comrade! My partner in crime! My better half! My life! My everything!" 

Klaus gasped sarcastically, doing his best to keep up with Steve's pace. "Not fair! You used my own words against me! Stop acting all fruity you prick!"

"Woah!" Steve's eyes widened in surprise. "Low blow, Klaus. Even for you." 

Klaus rolled his eyes and got real close to Steve while running, scrunching up his nose and making weird faces. "How do you like my mug now you meatball? Still want to make a pass at me?" 

Steve tried to kick at Klaus jokingly while running and he scrunched up his own nose. "Maybe I do fat-head! So stop ragging on me and keep your peepers off the goods!" Steve pretended to cover his ass, causing Klaus to burst out laughing so hard that he tripped and fell on his face, still laughing so hard that tears streamed out of his eyes as his nose bled into his hands. Steve stopped running and he knelt down to see how much damage he caused. "Oh shit. That's a lot of blood. I think it's broken. Honestly, I can't even tell where the blood is coming from anymore."

Klaus had stopped laughing and was now getting bitter with pain. "Grant, can you please just fucking shove it? Just tell me what you see." Taking his hands away, Steve looked at Klaus's nose.

"Well, it's swollen." Steve looked at it, afraid of what he would see. "And definitely bruised, but I don't think that's where most of the blood is coming from." He reached out, slowly brushing his thumb over Klaus's top lip with the lightest touch possible and looking closely. "You must have fallen on a rock or something. Your lip is all busted up."

"Damn." Klaus tried wiping away some of the blood roughly, only causing more to gush out of his lip and Steve screeched.

"What the hell are you doing!" Steve surprised Klaus and helped him to his feet. "Keep your mouth shut and head tilted forward. You don't want the blood to run down your throat! And for God's sake, stop rubbing it, you're making it worse!" Steve clasped his hand over Klaus's mouth in an attempt to put pressure on the wound, and started to walk him towards the medical tent. The other soldiers had all started to wake up by now, and a few came over to the two of them asking what happened, but Steve just brushed them away, telling them to go wake up a doctor.

Slipping into the medical tent quietly, Steve took Klaus to a low cot and sat him down gently, still covering his mouth. Sitting there in silence and listening to the murmurs outside of the waking camp, the two of them looked at each other as Steve slowly took his hand off of Klaus's mouth, the blood dried just enough to be sticky. "Don't move your mouth at all, it looks like your split lip is sort of stuck closed for now due to the blood. You don't want to open it up again." Klaus nodded and Steve smiled a bit, thankful that all of the bleeding had stopped for now, waiting in silence for the doctor to arrive. "You know, with how much blood you just lost, I'm pretty surprised that you haven't passed out yet." Klaus rolled his eyes in exasperation, obviously insinuating that it wasn't THAT much blood, but he did look just the slightest bit loopy, so it was most likely more than Klaus had originally thought.

"Hello Captain." Steve turned around to see a tired looking man in his fifties, clearly not woken up for the day, peeking into the tent and smiling lightly. Stepping inside, the man walked toward Klaus with a pitying expression. "You know, Sergeant, I would have thought you would have been more careful in everyday life due to your experience as a Bird, but unfortunately, you are still just as clumsy as ever." Steve made sure not to show his shock at the fact that Klaus was a member of the "Birds" group, just silently storing it in the back of his brain as Klaus frowned at the doctor, having his clumsiness pointed out making him upset. The doctor slowly walked around the tent, throwing strange looks at the silent Klaus, frowning as he pulled a white case out of a corner of the tent. Making his way over to the silent man, the doctor observed the bruised nose and busted lip, opening up the case and pulling out some things that would help him in taking care of Klaus. Suddenly, the doctor halted and looked over at Steve who had been studying them both with silent worry, and sighed a bit. “Captain Rogers? Would you be kind enough to fetch some clean water? There should be a barrel of it besides Sergeant Saint-Expuréy’s tent that he shares with the other soldiers.”

Steve immediately nodded. “Yeah, sure thing.” He gladly took the bowl being offered to him by the doctor and quietly slipped out of the tent to get some water, leaving Klaus in capable hands. As he walked along to where he knew Klaus had spent the night, he thought about the name Saint-Expuréy and how it reminded him of a book he had read once that had been left on a chair in Avengers Tower. If he remembered correctly, it had been the author’s last name, but the book had only been published once WWII had ended. Slowing down and dipping the bowl into the metal barrel filled with clean water, Steve smiled to himself as he realized that the book in Grant’s metal box was probably the original version of the book he had read in the Tower. Suddenly the envelopes of money made sense to him and he smiled. Klaus had probably been the one to write the book, but Grant had been the one to save up the money to get it published in the first place. Slowly walking back to the doctor’s tent, he was about to push open the flap when he heard whispering that he could have only picked up with the hearing of a supersoldier and he paused, electing to hear the conversation first.

“Now tell me again exactly why you are being so quiet?” Steve recognized the voice immediately as the doctor. “Usually you are very talkative when you are hurt, cussing up a storm and inventing quite a few curse words that even these soldiers would blush at.”

Steve listened to the quiet response of Klaus, sounding uncharacteristically tired. “I already said. Grant told me to be quiet.” Blinkling hard in shock, Steve felt guilt well up in his gut, not meaning to cause any harm. He felt like total shit because he had messed up his friendship and it had only been a day.

The doctor sighed lightly and shuffled a bit. “I know you would sell your soul for that fool, but you don’t have to take everything he says so literally. Now stop your talking so you don’t make the cut worse.”

Klaus groaned loudly. “That’s what Grant said too.”

The doctor scoffed and Klaus let out a soft sound of protest as he was lightly hit upside the head. “Why didn’t you just say that! I thought he had yelled at you stupid boy, but now you mention that he was just trying to take care of you? You focus on the wrong things in life.” Steve heard the doctor chuckle a bit and he relaxed, not actually having anything to feel guilty about. Grabbing onto the tent flap to walk in, he pushed it aside and then his body tensed as he heard the next thing that the doctor said. “If you keep looking at the negative, you’ll never get the chance to tell him.”

Steve looked at the doctor and Klaus, all of them suddenly going silent, the tent filled with the noise of the bustle outside. “Tell me what?” Steve felt like digging a hole and climbing into it as Klaus’s eyes went wide and teary and his face paled dramatically, making the freckles on his cheeks stand out like paint on a blank canvas. Rushing forward and putting the bowl of water down, Steve smiled gently, not daring to touch the terrified man in front of him, but still sitting down next to him. “You don’t have to tell me if you are uncomfortable. It’s okay if you don’t tell me.”

Steve saw Klaus relax a bit, the tears in his eyes softly receding and the color coming back to his face, making the soft cinnamon color of his freckles seem more healthy. Silently, he watched the man in front of him calm down, then he smiled softly, looking into Klaus’s eyes. Those god damn eyes that reminded him of so many cold nights, curled against a warm body and the stormy blue eyes that looked at him in worry whenever he had gotten sick. The stormy eyes and the soft hair that he had clutched at with small hands as tried his best to stay silent as he heard his own rattling lungs struggling for breath years ago before the serum. The eyes that reminded him of the soft feel of lips on his own, the secrets kept away from the world that would never accept them, and the pure unadulterated thrill of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he snuck off in between breaks in the constant missions to sneak hidden kisses with the man who he had loved more than anyone else. Steve swallowed thickly and stepped back, noticing that he had been looking at Klaus longer that any platonic relationship allowed and he chuckled a bit, looking away and towards the doctor and clearing his throat. “Um, I’m sorry. What can I do to help?”

Rolling his eyes, the doctor tossed a small jar into the air and Steve easily caught it, looking down at some type of cream or salve. “Just put that over the cut so it doesn't get infected. Then put some of that tape on the bridge of his nose so it stops bruising.” The doctor pointed at a roll of medical tape and Steve nodded. “Don’t forget to put everything back where it’s supposed to be.” Then, without another word, the doctor ducked out of the tent, leaving the two men to look at each other awkwardly. 

Steve held up the jar for Klaus to see and smiled stiffly. “Sooo… yeah.” Not knowing what to say, he just got busy, grabbing a rag from the medical case and soaking it in the water that he had in the bowl. Silently, he squeezed out the rag and gently brought it up to Klaus’s face, gently wiping the blood from his chin and cheeks, not daring to go anywhere near the cut yet in fear of hurting him. “I didn’t mean to shout at you.” The sentence came out of Steve’s mouth as a whisper, making him pause, the rag hovering softly over the cinnamon colored freckles that he was so drawn towards. “I was just worried. I thought that I had caused you to break your nose or something.”

Klaus licked his lips softly, the blood coating his tongue, unused to the sticky feeling on his mouth. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have gone all silent on you. I know how both of us don’t like the quiet.” Steve nodded, having a strong feeling that Klaus and Grant had both gone through something together that made them fear silence. Steve listened to Klaus as his heartbeat became just the slightest bit faster, Steve’s ears picking up each thump as they sped up and his breath became more shallow. “Grant?” Steve looked up to see light pink cheeks and hopeful eyes. “I have to tell you something. It’s really important and I don’t want you to think anything different of me.”

“Wait.” Steve surprised himself with the hesitancy behind his own words, so he just rinsed out the rag in his hand, turning the clear water pink. He brought his free hand up to one of the freckled cheeks that were turning a soft rosy color and brought the cloth up to the lips that were still soaked with sticky red blood. He softly wiped it away, willing his hands not to shake too much as he cleaned away every spot of red. Looking at the small crooked tear just barely to the left that had stopped bleeding, he noticed the rawness of the skin, hoping that it hadn’t already been infected. Steve hadn’t noticed just how close he had become to Klaus, but he didn’t try to pull away. He put the rag back down into the water, leaving it there as he looked back up into the shockingly hazel eyes filled with worry. “That wasn’t so bad.” Steve smiled softly, listening to his own heartbeat thudding in his ears, then he grabbed the small jar he had put down on the cot and opened the top, a minty smell wafting into the air. 

Snapping to attention, Steve heard stomping footfalls coming quickly towards the tent, and he launched himself off of the cot, well practiced in how not to get caught by people in an unsecured place while having an intimate moment. Shocking Klaus, his face paled and looked towards the tent flaps as Johan Schmidt came storming in on a completely innocent scene. Two men, an appropriate distance away from each other, masks of complete calm on their faces, not betraying the scene from just a few moments ago that had been less than appropriate for a superior to witness. “Ah. I have found you Captain Rogers. I was hoping to find you, there are men at your tent waiting for you.” Schmidt nodded calmly and looked between the two men with a confused gaze. “Sergeant Saint-Expuréy?” Klaus stood up at attention, stumbling off the cot, his eyes sharp and calculating. “You should be at your tent as well, preparing to leave.” Klaus nodded respectfully as Schmidt left the tent yet again.

Steve looked at the tense face of Klaus and lightly touched his arm, feeling the muscle under his fingers relax. “So, I’m sorry about interrupting you. I should have just listened.” Steve felt the guilt in his gut slowly coming back with the suspicion that he already knew what Klaus was going to say. “Go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

Chuckling lightly, Klaus pulled away from Steve’s touch, obviously contemplating what he should say. “It’s nothing. Really. Just a little bit… a little personal. Forget about it. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Steve took a step away, concerned. “You know you can tell me anything. Especially if it’s personal.”

Taking a deep breath, Klaus looked Steve in the eye and smiled. Steve smiled back, feeling as if he knew exactly what was going to happen, after all, he had been stuck in the same position as Klaus when he was fifteen and trying to confess to Bucky. “Well, I’m sort of nervous actually.” Klaus looked away, red on his cheeks, and ran his hands through his hair. “Oh god, I’m messing this up so bad.”

Steve smiled softly, looking Klaus in the eye. “You aren’t messing it up as bad as you think. Just take a deep breath and rip off the bandage.”

“Oh god.” Klaus rubbed his face with his hands, trying to build up courage. “I don’t know how to say this without completely freaking out and messing this up and I know that the way that I’m feeling isn’t really something that can happen because of all the complications in the way and I know that I’m rambling and not making any sense, but my brain is all jumbled up and confused and it’s hard to even get a simple thought out because I know by now that I am way off topic and not really making sense, but I can’t really go back to the topic that I started off with because I’m a coward and don’t know how to deal with being in love with someone so completely and utterly perfect on every single level.” Taking a giant breath, Klaus paused, then continued, sounding desperate. “I wouldn’t even know how to tell them that I love them because it’s so hard to understand my own feelings and I have no idea how I would ever tell them that they are incredible and strong and beautiful and clever and kind and protective and warm and loud yet quiet at the same time and brave yet completely and utterly oblivious and foolish, but also the smartest person I know and how gentle and calming and quirky they are without being weird about it while still being thoughtful and embarrassed and shy and amazing and so, so perfect that it hurts.” Klaus had tears in his eyes, but before they could fall, he grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt in a death grip. “God dammit Grant! I love Y-” He froze, looking at the surprise on Steve’s face, and broke. “Yvette.” Letting go of the shirt clenched in his fists, Klaus turned away with a hurt expression. “I love Yvette.” Wiping away the tears that had leaked onto his cheeks, he turned away and cleared his throat. “You should probably go and pack your stuff. Please, don’t tell anyone what I said.”

Steve’s stomach dropped to his feet. He had read the atmosphere wrong and it was not a good thing that came from it. “Oh.” He shifted towards the entrance of the tent. “Alright. I’m sorry. I’ll go pack up.” Walking over to the tent flaps, he stopped before he fully left and turned back to Klaus with a smile. “Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone else, but I’m sure that if you told Yvette what you told me, she would most definitely return the feelings.” Walking out of the tent, Steve let his face fall expressionless. According to all of the mission reports that he had read, Grant Rogers had walls that didn’t easily come down, and the way that Steve had acted so far in front of people could make them suspicious of not being the same person. Seriously though, who the fuck was Yvette? Apparently he was supposed to know her, but unfortunately, Steve had no clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know, do you think that Klaus is the type of straight person that acts gay, or the type of gay person who fakes being straight? By the way, for future reference, the Russian is a lesbian and we love her style and sass. That's all.


	4. Steve gets mad, almost crying because of a diary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! IMPORTANT !!!
> 
> So, a warning to more delicate readers or people who might need a warning before hand. This us the chapter where the things get heavy and a lot of background on Klaus and Grant is dropped. There is mentions of phisical abuse, domestic violence, murder, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, rape, and attempted suicide. Only half of these issues get resolved during the time this story takes place and honestly, they don't get resolved until much later. Eventually there could be explanations, but due to the nature of the incidents as they occur, most won't be for a long time.   
I didn't feel that it was necessary to write out fifteen years worth of journal entries, so as a guide, if the entries are consecutive with no marks to suggest otherwise, than they are written one after the other. If the entries have a dashed line between them, then there are entries into the journal between those that are written here.

Walking quickly to Grant’s tent, Steve greeted the two men out in front, waiting for him. One seemed to be in his mid thirties, but the other man looked like a child, only in his late teens. Only the older man spoke, while the younger man sweated profusely, seemingly terrified of Steve. “We were sent to carry your things Captain Rogers Sir. We have the boxes with the covers that you always specifically ask for.” 

Steve looked at the piles of boxes, just wide and long enough to fit a file into, but tall enough to fit at least a drawer and a half of them. “Good job. Wait out here.” Taking the boxes with him, Steve got to work, placing the folders into the boxes, all in order and carefully numbering the top of them, one to three. In the third box, that was only one fourth of the way full, Steve placed the metal box that had been in the desk, securely locked, and all of the books, placing the cover on. Having a few more of the boxes left, Steve emptied the closet, neatly folding clothes and packing them away, slipping into a clean uniform before putting the top onto the two filled boxes. Steve numbered then four and five, then set them by the others, grabbing the last two empty ones and taking them back to the closet. Opening the drawers, Steve looked over the impressive small armory settled there, filled with an array of weapons, most of the guns with silent shot attachments. Steve hated the thought of carrying a gun, but he pulled out a pistol that called to him and attached it to his hip, the weight settling there like an old friend. Picking up each weapon carefully, he wrapped them up securely with the cloth he found under each one and put them in the boxes, long range weapons in one box, close combat in the other. Numbering those as well, Steve put the pen he had in his back pocket where he found a small handkerchief that looked well used. Walking over to the middle of the tent Steve took down the orb of glass shards, careful not to cut himself on the few points that hadn't been worn smooth, and placed it down on the top of the pile of boxes. Pushing the tent flap to the side, Steve peeked out where the two men were still standing. “I’m finished.” Silently they both came in, knowing exactly what they had to do as they made their way over to the empty desk, picking it up and shuffling out of the tent, moving it over to a truck waiting a few yards away. Coming back and doing the same with the closet, Steve got to work moving the boxes, files first, to the back of the truck as well, securing them in place with rope. Both men retreated into the tent, coming out with a box each, slipping it onto the truck as Steve tied those ones down as well. After tying down the sixth box, he heard a crash from behind him, and the whole camp went silent, the tension in the air skyrocketing to the feel of a firefight. He turned around to see the young man who had carried the last box, on his knees, looking at the contents of the box he had dropped on the ground with a terrified look on his face. The whole camp held their breath, looking between the young man and their captain, waiting to see what would happen as the terrified boy started frantically picking up the assorted knives on the ground. 

Steve watched with a hardened expression as the kid clutched a hand covered in blood to his chest, trying not to get any on the objects in his hands, until he decided to walk over, feeling dozens of eyes on him as he approached. Steve knelt to the ground, grabbing the boy’s bleeding hand, tightening his grip as the terrified boy tried to rip it away, then reaching into his back pocket for the handkerchief. “Please don’t cut it off!” Steve froze at the sound of the boy’s scream.

“Now why would I do that.” Steve didn’t really mean for there to be an answer, since it wasn’t really a question.

Sobbing and shaking, the teenager tried again to pull his bleeding hand out of the older man’s strong grip to no avail. “Last time someone dropped your things, you shot him twice in the leg so he couldn’t walk anymore.”

Calmly, and with no emotion showing, Steve ignored the boy’s comment and reached into his back pocket, pulling out the cloth. He tied it around the shaking hand where the blood was coming from, a deep cut running diagonally across the whole palm, then let go of the boy who snapped his hand away, terrified and barely able to breathe right due to the panic consuming him. “You’re going to need stitches for that. Go find yourself a doctor.” Watching the boy shake, sobbing on the ground, he raised his voice a bit. “That’s an order, kid.” Slowly, the boy stopped panicking sat up, but Steve couldn't really help him stand or else nobody would believe that he was actually Grant Rogers, so he raised his voice to a firm shout. “Get your ass to a doctor! Now!” Steve watched as the boy sprinted away from him, still terrified, then began picking up whatever was left on the ground, placing it into the box and closing the cover that was half crushed. Picking it up, he carried it to the truck and tied it down with rope, feeling the tension slowly dissipate from around him.

The older man slowly approached him, nervous. “Excuse me Captain. Sir. Can I ask you a question?” Steve looked up and nodded. “Why didn’t you shoot him? You usually do that when people… um… displease you.”

Steve pulled the rope on the truck tightly and looked over to the older man. “By the look of that cut, he won’t be able to move his hand much ever again.” Thinking back to Bucky and the metal limb he now had after he became the Winter Soldier, physically unable to feel things anymore, he paused. “That kid just lost a limb.”

The older man looked down at the ground, thinking for a moment. “I guess losing your hand is a bad enough punishment. Thank you for answering me.”

Steve nodded and watched the man walk away, then he turned back to the truck to check if everything was there. Without a word, Steve did what he was supposed to for the rest of the time that the camp was being packed up, even skipping breakfast to take down his tent and pack it onto the truck. Once he was finished, he sat in silence as he watched the rest of the camp bustle around, not feeling like he wanted to socialize. Becoming bored after a while, he moved to the bed of the truck where he sat down and opened box number three, bringing out the metal box that he unlocked with the key he still had hanging around his neck. Pulling out  _ Le Petit Prince, _ Steve closed the metal container again, locking it and placing it back in the box with all the books. Picking up the rough book, he let himself smile a little, interested in reading the first ever copy of a story that hadn’t even been published yet. Pulling open the cover, he read the neatly printed words in the middle of the page. “To Grant Rogers, my first and best friend. Thanks for always being there for me when I needed it. Love, Klaus Potts." Flipping the page, Steve looked over the words in French, immediately translating them in his head to read without realizing it. He slowly worked his way through page after page, the noise of the camp around him fading into the background as he read the story written in a lovely shade of dark blue that could easily be mistaken for black. The story was different in its original language, filled with more imagery and emotions gently worked into the text. It was almost as if the words on the page had been directly poured out of the author's open soul as each and every event took place, causing Steve to feel every emotion that the characters felt without even knowing it. As he neared the end of the book, he heard someone approach with silent footsteps, but he quickly brushed it away to face the suspense that the book had thrown him into as the little Prince spoke to the snake that had offered to send him back to the stars so he could be with his Rose. Steve inhaled sharply, knowing what came next, but he was too immersed in the story not to be horrified and devastated when the Pilot figured out what the Prince wanted to do. He read on, the dread settling in his stomach as he soaked up every word indicating that the Prince would accept the snake's offer and be sent back to his Rose. Silently drifting through the events, Steve felt as if he was really there as the Prince warned the Pilot not to look because it would make him sad, then went to the snake, dropping lightly onto the sand once the snake's fangs connected to the Prince's leg. Steve felt his stomach drop like lead as the story came to an end and he gently closed the book on his lap, taking a shaky breath to calm the waves of emotion pounding through his chest. Looking up, Steve noticed that the camp had been cleared, empty with no noise but the wind, but feeling pressure to his left, Steve saw Klaus leaning himself on his shoulder, halfway wrapped around him and cheek settled in the crook of Steve's neck, wondering when he had gotten there.

"I didn't think you would ever read the damn thing." The soft words coming from Klaus's mouth were just the smallest bit muffled because his cheek was leaning on Steve, but his eyes were pointed down at the picture on the book's cover. "I thought you had locked it away after I gave it to you all those months ago."

Steve looked at the smallest bit of sadness hiding in Klaus's expression, then gently took the brunettes hand in his own. "Why wouldn't I read it? This is my favorite book."

Klaus snorted. "It's a piece of shit and you know it. Just a story my Pops thought up after he got wasted." He looked down at their intertwined fingers and took a shuddering breath, cheeks turning crimson. "Grant, I'm still so scared of him."

Steve shifted his body so that instead of laying on the back of his shoulder, Klaus was leaning on the front, then he wrapped both arms around the shuddering man and just held him. "Don't worry. I'll be here to keep you safe. I'm here." Steve repeated the words over and over again, immediately realizing what Klaus had gone through, the scenario painfully similar to Bucky’s. The poor boy probably had a drunk for a father, one that was almost never there or abusive. Possibly both. Murmuring little nothings into Klaus’s soft hair, Steve held the shaking body close to his chest, begging himself to hold it together a little longer so that he could properly be there without ending up sobbing as well. Until at the worst possible time, the fact that Steve had been so accepting of hit him full force in the face. Suddenly, his situation dawned on him and he tightened himself around the shaking figure in his arms and realized just how fucked up all of this was. For god’s sake, he had just gotten used to being a part of a strange futuristic world, and now he was thrown into the past as a German super spy with hidden feelings for the lifelong best friend that was currently sobbing into his shoulder because it was apparently a very touching moment that Steve was incredibly confused by. Slowly shutting down, Steve felt his arms loosen a bit, but he adjusted his grip and held on tighter, needing an anchor through the short circuiting in his brain, just now realizing that the reason he made it this far through was because he was in shock. How on Earth had he ever continued functioning after he found the picture of his mother?! What did it mean? Did he have a brother he didn’t know about? Did he have a family besides his dead mom and dad? Was the scrap of cloth from the box really part of the same baby blanket that Steve had? Why had he been transported back into this time and body specifically? Was there some big secret that he was supposed to figure out, or was he just sent because there was a half empty body just barely alive for him to fill? Was he sent back to prevent something? To cause something? To end up all alone, pining for someone that he would never be able to obtain because they were off getting married to some random girl named Yvette? What would happen if he could never get back? Back to Bucky, Natasha, Bruce, Clint, Sam, Thor, and even possibly that complete idiot of a genius, Tony? Would he just stay here for the rest of his life, living the life that he could have had all those years ago? Breathing heavily, Steve clenched his fists, terrified of letting go, irrationally terrified of leaving his friend like he had left behind his team. Slowly but surely, both men calmed down, clinging to each other as if the world was going to fall out from under their feet at any second and swallow them whole only to spit them back out into a hell created by their own minds. 

Steve didn’t know who was the first to end the hug, but he knew that his chest was suddenly cold and lacking pressure. Klaus chuckled a bit, eyes red and watery, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Looks like we both just needed a big ol’ cry after that tent debacle.”

Steve tensed up at the sudden reminder of the Yvette girl, then smiled weakly, hoping that Klaus hadn’t noticed the immediate change in the super soldier’s demeanor. “Yeah. I guess we did.” Pausing and slightly shifting away from the brunette with Bucky’s eyes, Steve took a deep breath as to not get caught up in the moment. “I’m really happy for you.” Steve noticed the pain on Klaus’s face at that comment, then he tried again. “Hey, don’t look so down. Yvette is quite the woman and would be lucky to have you.” Smiling genuinely for his friend, Steve pushed back the sadness of both him and Grant so that none of the feelings were betrayed in Steve’s eyes. “She would make a beautiful wife if that’s what you were looking for. You just have to promise me that I can be your best man when the time comes.”

Klaus nodded slowly. “Yeah. Don’t worry. If I ever get married to a woman, I promise you will be the best man.”

Steve chuckled a little, nearly passing out right then and there from the exhaustion that had hit him with the heart wrenching sadness in his gut. “That’s good to know, but we should probably be heading out now. I don’t really remember being deserted like this last time I packed up camp in the army.”

Klaus laughed and smiled. “You were really into that book, huh? Two people came over to you, trying to get you to move so they could take the truck back to base, but you didn’t even look up from your page. I guess everyone was too nervous to interrupt you after what happened with the kid earlier.” Pausing, Klaus looked Steve right in the eye and sighed with a disappointed look on his face. “You only ever ignore the people around you when you are too tired to care. I know you Grant Steven Rogers, and you honestly look like shit right now. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” Steve bit his lip, half ignoring the question, half thinking about the last time he had actually had a full night’s sleep without the constant nightmares plaguing him every single time he closed his eyes, then shrugged weakly, not really wanting to answer the question truthfully. Or at all. He didn’t ever want to have to answer that question ever again in his life because he couldn’t actually say that it had been almost seventy five years. He even had nightmares when he had been in the ice, years upon years of constant nightmares that never let up, no matter how much pleading he had done to any god out there that could possibly hear him and put him out of the misery that was Bucky, Peggy, and the Howlies dying in any number of horrific deaths.

Steve coughed lightly, taking himself smoothly out of the downward spiral that threatened to engulf him, thinking instead with logic. “About a week or so since I last slept for a solid hour. I had to keep myself alert, go into full panic mode if you know what I mean.” Steve hadn’t slept since he had healed from the incident on the helicarrier, too busy looking for Bucky in any way that he could.

“Dear fucking lord Grant!” Klaus jumped to his feet, a horrified look clouding his every feature. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that I was keeping you awake! You told me that you weren’t up working all night!” Klaus paced back and forth, so desperate to get his message across that he was shouting. “I should have known that you were lying! What is wrong with you that you don’t care about your own wellbeing! Sleep is important! And so is food! I can’t believe that I let you skip breakfast! And lunch! And after being lost in the woods with almost nothing to eat for nine days! What the hell are we still doing here! I need to get you back to base so that you can go to sleep in your bed and eat food and take a shower!”

Steve just rolled his eyes, now understanding how Tony felt after Steve had scolded him for spending all of his time stuck down in the workshop without sleep for days. “I get it Klaus. I’ll go to sleep on one condition.” Klaus huffed, still fuming, then gestured for Steve to continue. “I get the time in the truck and a few hours at base to complete the research that I started last night. Then I will eat, shower, and go to sleep for however long you deem is necessary.” Klaus opened his mouth to protest, but Steve quickly pushed his fingers against the angry man’s mouth, effectively silencing him. “I’m not done yet, let me continue. I get my time to work, and in exchange, I will take care of myself.” Steve smirked evilly. “And, I won’t tell Yvette about a certain man’s feelings.”

Klaus’s face went hilariously red as he let out a shriek of protest from around Steve’s hand. “Yu wudn dar! Fucin bashterd!” Struggling to pry Steve’s hand from his lips, his embarrassed look making his eyes flare wide. “You promised!” Shoving Steve’s hand away, Klaus potested. “Yvette is the Red Tailed Hawk! A deadly trained assassin that specializes in getting into people’s heads to rip them apart from the inside out.” Klaus shook his head, calming himself down. “I get that in all technicality I’m sort of considered part of the happy-go-lucky assassination group at the beckon call of the mustached tyrant, Hitler himself, but I can’t protect myself against her like you could since honestly, I’m just a regular soldier that got caught up with the four deadliest people on the planet.” Sighing dejectedly, Klaus reached out his hand to Steve, offering to shake on the deal. “As long as you actually sleep the whole time and don’t leave your room until I come and get you. Only then can I make the deal.”

Steve nodded, having no actual plans on keeping the promise due to the nightmares, but he couldn't let Klaus know just how much he was terrified of falling asleep and no longer having control. “It’s a deal then.”

Shaking Steve’s hand, Klaus sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time today, then let go. “Get what you need and get your ass into the truck so I can drive you. And don’t even think that you will be driving. I’m not dying today because of your lack of sleep.” 

Smiling, Steve nodded and moved to put away the book that still rested in his lap. Opening box number three again, Steve pulled out the metal box, unlocked it, and switched the books, trading the small novel for the thick leather journal. Quickly placing the metal box back, Steve slipped into the passenger seat of the truck and immediately opened the front cover of the book as Klaus started driving away towards the path left by the rest of the company that were long gone. He started through the words carefully, almost unable to read them because they were just a child’s scribbles. 

  
  


_ March 7, 1927 _

_ My name is Grant. My mama just gave me this book to write in because she said that it was good to write down stuff that is happy in life. Mama says that I am going to have something good happen to me soon. Mama knows stuff that nobody else does. I love my mama very much. _

_ March 8, 1927 _

_ I am still waiting for the happy thing. Mama says it is soon. Maybe papa is coming back home soon. That is a happy thing. Mama has a big belly and I want to sit on her lap, but I am too big. I don't want to be too big for long. I love my mama very much. _

_ March 10, 1927 _

_ Papa came back yesterday. It was not the happy thing. He had to leave right away to go back to his science. I do not think I like science. Science is gross if it takes papas away from their sons. I still love my mama very much. _

_ March 11, 1927 _

_ I do not think that the happy thing is coming. A big meanie stole my shoes and put them in a puddle while I was playing. I am sorry for his mama since she has a meanie for a son. My mama is the perfect mama. I love my mama very much. _

_ March 15, 1927 _

_ I found my happy thing. I brought him home for mama to see. He is very pretty. Not as pretty as mama, but still very pretty. The meanie was taking my shoes again when my happy thing happened. He hit the meanie right in the big ugly face. I have to say sorry to mama for writing a bad thing. I showed mama what I wrote, but she just laughed and gave me a kiss right on the head. I think I love my happy thing very much. I love my mama very much too. _

_ March 17, 1927 _

_ My happy thing has a dumb last name. It is the longest name ever. I like his first name very much so. My happy thing has a very pretty first name. Klaus. I want to keep him with me forever. I like my happy thing. I love my mama very much for finding him for me. _

Steve smiled a bit as he read through each entry, each one getting more amusing.

_ July 4, 1927 _

_ It was my birthday today. I turned 8 years old. I didn't get many presents, but I loved them all. Papa gave me a WHOLE quarter to spend on candy. I got candy for Klaus. He did not want me to, but I did anyway. Mama gave me papers and a pencil and I have been drawing all day. Klaus did not give me anything but his present was the best of all. He said that I was his bestest friend and held my hand. I like the feeling of his hand on mine. I want to hold his hand for the rest of my life. I love my mama very much. _

Skimming over days that just repeated, Steve read through pages and pages of writing, the entries becoming neater and easier to read. 

_ December 19, 1928 _

_ Today, I built a snowman with Klaus. It was after school, and to be honest, I was getting very tired of going to school. In the beginning, I was excited to go somewhere new, but I do not like the bullies there. I'm a full nine years old, but I am still too tiny to fight back. It's not that I don't try, I kicked Paul between the legs with everything I had, but Klaus still had to come and save me. Rosemarie and Elizabeth wanted to come outside with us, but my little sisters are too small to build a snowman with us. They turned one year old a few months ago, and they are getting big, but not big enough to be friends with my happy thing. Not with my Klaus. I love my little sisters and my mama very much. _

_ \------------------ _

_ January 1, 1929 _

_ Yesterday was the new year and we had a big party with everyone in the neighborhood. Klaus and I almost got sent to bed, but then the grownups had too much alcohol and forgot about us. Klaus and I played with each other the whole night, until I heard people talking about kisses. I asked mama why people were saying things like that, and she told me that sometimes, when you love somebody a lot, you kiss them on the lips at midnight to bring good luck through the year. Klaus didn't really care, but I couldn't get it away from my brain. Klaus and I went and sat on a couch in the corner of the room after that while the grownups got really drunk. He fell asleep with his head on my lap not long after and I played with his hair. When midnight came around, everyone cheered and then mama kissed papa, causing Klaus's mama to kiss his papa. Everyone was kissing and it was really gross, but everyone was kissing and hugging the people that they loved, so I kissed the person I loved. When I first put my lips on Klaus's I didn't feel anything, but when I felt the jolt explode through my body, I stopped right away because I knew my face was blushing. I had a horrible feeling that I wasn't aloud to kiss him, but that didn't stop me from doing it again to feel the feeling in my stomach. I love my papa and little sisters and mama very much. But I think that I love Klaus more. _

Steve tensed in his seat, looking over at the man that was calmly driving down a dirt road while humming to himself, and bit his lip, wondering if Klaus ever knew about the kiss. Or more accurately, kisses. Plural. There was more than one. Steve kept reading through the journal, picking up the important bits and pieces throughout the next years, reading about how Grant was almost always sick, how he constantly hurt himself while playing, about how his lungs rattled every time he took a breath and how he could barely stand some days due to the pain. Then, Steve stopped reading through the book to read the same entries over and over again.

_ August 25, 1933 _

_ Klaus has been coming over to my house more often because of his dad. The drunk is beating on his wife and kids. Klaus only has his little brother to look out for, but that means that he has taken the beatings of both him and his little brother. Klaus has come limping to my house at midnight too many times by now, the horrible sight of him covered in bruises and blood being harder and harder to handle. Whenever I get sick, Klaus is the one that stays with me every step of the way, most of the time skipping school to stay with me, but he says that it's not the threat of getting punished by his dad that scared him, but the chance that I could die. He always tells me that the silence scared him. He is terrified that one day, everything will go quiet and he won't be able to hear anything from me, no shuddering pulse, no rattling breath, no coughing in my sleep. Nothing. He is terrified of it and whenever he comes to my house after a beating, I finally understand what he means, because I feel that fear myself. Except it's so much worse. I'm writing this as I l have my head on his chest, listening to his breath and heart, strong and unwavering, but I'm scared that his body will stop making noise and he will never wake up. The noise of the failing body terrifies me, but if that body ever went silent, I know that I would kill myself immediately because I love him. I love him so much that it terrifies me. I know that I'm small and weak and get sick more often than it rains, but if Klaus asked me to, I would become strong and healthy, without a second thought. I want the constant worry and guilt to go away, but at the same time, I just want to sink into the worry for Klaus and beat the ever loving shit out of that drunk asshole and put him six feet under. I love my family. I love my pop, my sisters, and my ma. But I love Klaus more. I would kill for him. One day, I will. _

_ August 27, 1933 _

_ I'm only thirteen and I'm going to be snuffed. I brought my journal with me to Klaus's house because I was going to show him. No more secrets. But now I'm writing like my life depends on it, because it sort of does. I'm under Klaus's bed, hiding because his pops came home a few days early and Klaus hid me so that his pops didn't find me. That drunk does not like guests. Especially if they found that guest laying down in the same bed as his son. The shouting is getting louder and I don't know what to do anymore, I know what's going to happen, I know just like my mama knew that I would meet Klaus, my happy thing, all those years ago. I'm going to hear the commotion from down the hall, I'm going to grab Klaus and find a place to hide as his ma tries to calm his pops down, but fails. She fails because he is going to pull out the gun he has tucked in his waistband. She is going to fail because he shoots her. She fails because he shoots her and she dies on the rug, next to Klaus's little brother who will also get shot. I can see everything playing out in my brain, everything step by step and it scares me because I'm seeing the  _ future. _ I need to hide Klaus. I need to hide with him in the closet near the back of the hall where we will stay quiet, the silence drowning us. Where we will freeze, unable to do anything or hear anything as wailing screams out far in the distance. Everything will be silent. The kind of silence that both of us were so absolutely terrified to hear with each other. The silence that is broken by the sound of heavy breathing and sobs, the wailing of police sirens getting closer. Almost there. Almost there. The heavy foot falls that come closer and closer. The sound of heavy breathing as a hand grabs the handle of the closet as Klaus and I hold our breath. The screech of the door as it's pushed to the side, the sight of Klaus's pop the worst sight in the world. The tears pooling in his eyes and sliding down his crazed, smiling face as tears drag the splattered blood on his face down and away. The gun will come up, and I will be so terrified, and I know I will die, so I will do the one thing I can. I'm going to die, so why not die in a good way. I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to kiss Klaus. In my last moments on this dumb, awful mess of an earth, I'm going to kiss Klaus like I've never kissed anything ever before, all hot and heavy and messy and amazing, and then it will all be over. I will feel the pain in my body, hear the sound of a gunshot, listen to the screams as I fall to the ground, feel the slamming of wood under me and hear more shots. I'm going to watch the police barge in and body slam Klaus's pop to the ground, having shot his legs. In my last moments, I'll hear the sobs and feel Klaus's hot tears on my face, and my body will finally do the one thing that Klaus had been terrified of. It will go silent. But right now, I'm still under the bed. I'm still alive. I can still save Klaus. _

Steve was silent for the longest time. Studying the face of the man next to him, he would never think that this Klaus that was currently belting out the lyrics to some song would ever be the same Klaus that was abused by his dad, terrified of his best friend dying, and was nearly shot in his own home. It was sort of sad. It was also horrifyingly terrible to think about. Looking back down to the book, Steve noticed that the writing had changed, the lettering more slanted and delicate.

_ August 27, 1933 _

_ Dear Grant, _

_ I promise that I didn't read your journal. It was open on my bed when I found it. I did sort of read the last entry on accident. Alright, so it was not an accident. I'm sorry, I was just wondering. It was opened to this page, so I thought you wanted for me to see it. I read everything about how you knew what happened. Did your ma actually see the future and tell you that I was going to be your friend? It's really cool how you can see the future too. You hit every part on the nose. Everything you wrote about came true. Every single part. Except for the part about you dying. The cops came in and took my Pops away to throw him in the can, then a bunch of nice people in white came to take you away. There was a lot of blood and a hole all the way through your chest. I promise I didn't cry all to much. The nice cops told me that they would wait for me while I changed out of the bloody clothes and that's when I saw the journal that you put on my bed. They took me to the hospital where you were taken since I couldn't stay at home while they mo _ **/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/** _ s dealt with things. (Sorry about the scribbles. I can't erase ink.) I waited for your family while you were in the surgery room, don't worry about your ma. I gave her a great big hug for you and I made sure that she slept and ate at the right times. I sent your pa back home with the girls because your ma didn't want to leave while you were hurt. It took a long time for the docs to get you all fixed up, but even now, they are saying that you won't make it through the night, but I know you Grant. You are going to prove them wrong. You are going to make it through the night, then the week, then the month, then the year, then the next decade. You are going to do good things and some nice girl will fall for you and you're going to get married and have kids. You might not want to tell her that you had your first kiss with a boy because you thought you were going to die. She would probably think that it's pretty gross. Sorry Grant. The docs are going to let your ma and me in to see you soon after they get you all settled up in a big fancy hospital bed with those funky machines. But I guess they aren't too funky because they are keeping you breathing.  _

_ You're my best friend ever, _

_ Klaus _

Steve paused before reading the next note, trying not to groan out loud, the little boy who wrote the notes completely oblivious.

_ August 19, 1933 _

_ Dear Grant, _

_ Yesterday was pretty calm, you made it through the night to the shock of all the docs, but you're getting worse. Very bad. It was hard to watch you fade so much every second. The docs say that you are drowning in your own blood slowly since they couldn't actually fix a bullet hole that close to the heart completely. Your pops disappeared a day or so ago, and nobody knows where he went. I'm trying to keep you alive the best I can, but it obviously isn't doing much because the beeping machines stopped beeping a couple seconds ago and I don't know what it means. I know something is wrong, but I can't figure out what it is. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ I'm writing as I see it now. Apparently the beeping machines kept track of your heart and it stopped beating. The doctors ran in and tried to save you, but it's not doing much. Your pops just ran in, screaming at everyone to get out of his way and stabbed you. I know he probably didn't actually stab you, but he has this greenish blue looking liquid in a big syringe and he just shoved it right into your heart, so, yes I think he just stabbed you. I'll slap him later for that, right now, he's got these two paddles with him that are making the air super spicy. I don't know how else to describe it, but it's terrifying and everyone is screaming. He definitely did something to you though because your body is flopping all over the place and he's about to do something with the paddles. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ So, apparently he was trying to electrocute you. There was so much energy that everyone was thrown backwards and a giant white light nearly caused the room to explode. Im sitting by your bed right now, and let me tell you something right now, this is not how I expected someone to look after being electrocuted back to life. They had to move you to a different room a few hours ago because all the windows were wrecked and the machines were thrown around the room. You are going to be pretty surprised when you wake up and have to look down to make eye contact with me. It's pretty wack if you ask me, but you are getting better quicker than I thought was possible, so I'm very grateful to your pops even though he got yelled at by the docs for blowing up a hospital room. I know that you are going to be okay now, so I can put this away for you. _

_ You are still my best friend no matter what you look like, _

_ Klaus _

Steve siged, leaning back in the uncomfortable seat and looking out the window for a long bit. "Find anything good in that journal of yours?" Steve looked over at Klaus who had innocently asked the question to start a conversation as they drove, then he looked away to the trees surrounding them.

"Sort of." Steve sighed again, feeling the steely demeanor of Grant Rogers creep into his voice at the thought of the letters and the fact that Klaus had probably always liked that brilliant and beautiful trained assassin, Yvette. "I honestly don't even know what I'm looking for." He paused, trying not to let the bite in his voice show, but failing miserably. "Maybe I'm looking for answers to why this shit happens." Murmuring something else less pleasant under his breath, Steve could barely contain the pure frustration he had gotten from reading about how absolutely oblivious little Klaus had been.

Klaus might have been oblivious his whole life, but had caught on to the unpleasantness that now had taken root between the two of them. "Grant? Did I do something wrong? Are you pissed off because my singing disturbed your reading? I swear it never did befo-"

"No! It's not your singing!" Steve felt a heat behind his eyes, and cursed every inch of his being as he started hating himself for being a god damn frustration crier. "Can you tell me about her?"

Klaus looked surprised. "Yvette? Grant, you know her personally. Why would you need to know more?"

Steve took a deep breath, keeping his voice distant and cold instead of one filled with pain and frustration. "Not that. Tell me what you like about her." Tell me why! Steve wanted to scream at the dumbass who he thought was in the same boat as him. Steve looked over at Klaus's confused face and he wanted to slam his own head into the dash out of pure exasperation just to stop the angry thoughts threatening to make him choke. Steve sighed to let out some of the anger, instead talking to himself inside his brain. This was god damn homophobia right here. How could one man be so dumb? Dear lord, why is he still fucking looking at me? Can I slam my head into the window hard enough to knock me out? Why did I try and start this conversation? Can I slam HIS head into the steering wheel hard enough to knock him out? How do I get out of this? Can I get out or am I too deep into this mistake?

"Grant?" Klaus looked at his friend with a type of look that Steve had never seen before and a little lip twitch that signaled something strange. His voice went up a few notes, a little wary of the question he was about to ask. "Are you jealous?"

That was it. The line that Klaus crossed couldn't be changed and suddenly, Steve felt every single one of his walls that he had built over the years come up around him, even feeling the ones that Grant had put up in his own mind. Straightening in his seat, Steve let his face go blank with a practiced effortlessness, slightly turning his body to face the target of his weariness, no emotions showing at all. Nothing could phase him, not even his own mind. Steve let everything around him go blank in the way he learned during his time as Captain America and began reading again, faster this time since no thoughts were there in his brain to distract him.

_ August 23, 1933 _

_ Things have changed. A lot. Too much. I'm taller than Klaus, stronger than him, weigh more, and it is very, very strange to see Paul the bully and his goons back off with one single glance in their direction. Girls used to be all over Klaus because he was mature for his age and good looking, but now they were all over me. I don't like it. I haven't had time to talk to Klaus privately since I woke up in the hospital a few weeks ago so I could explain why I did what I did, but I don't think he would have listened to me anyway. I want to go back to the friendship we had before, but we couldn't because I had to go and mess it up by kissing him. What was worse was that Klaus thought I only wanted to kiss him to have my first kiss before I died and he was the only one there. It's either that or he is totally freaked out about the changes. I think that he's actually scared of me. _

_ \---------------- _

_ February 13, 1935 _

_ I hate this fucking month. Seven girls have already tried to give Klaus chocolate and honestly, it pissed me off a bit. Ok, so a lot more than a bit. Sure I got quite a bit of attention for myself from many lovely ladies, but that wasn't the problem, the problem was that Klaus had started DATING one of those "lovely ladies" and they were openly all over each other. I had gotten asked out twice, but I turned them both down, offering to draw them instead because I just couldn't bring myself to date anyone right now. I had fallen back onto drawing after I technically died, but I hadn't told anyone. I didn't even write it into my journal, but I think that I'm doing pretty good with it. It's a lot easier than I thought, just to get lost in the sea of doodles that I scratch onto my paper, and it feels like a safe place away from all of the chaos coming with the fact that the person I was fully willing to die for was shoving his tongue down Alena Maken's throat. I knew that he would one day get a girlfriend and then a wife, but it didn't hurt any less when it had actually happened. Besides, who would ever want to be a homosexual, a gay, a QUEER, when you could be normal and have a normal life. _

_ \---------------- _

_ February 25, 1935 _

_ Turns your that being asked by around seven girls in one week could be useful. When I turned down each one, I offered to draw them instead, and they accepted. I made five dollars in a week, so I told them to spread the word to their friends that I would draw them pictures for an amount of money depending on the quality of the drawing. It is actually very nice to be making my own money and knowing that I am an actual working man, but now I have a line of women waiting to get their pictures and it's thrilling. I now have a full time distraction from Klaus and Alena choking on each other's tongues since this is the first relationship either of them had gotten into and they seriously don't know how to kiss. _

_ \--------------- _

_ May 17, 1935 _

_ I'm proud of myself and so is ma and pa and Rosemarie and Elizabeth, but not Klaus. He had jumped through five different girls in the time that I actually set up a business of sorts, Alena, Selena, Karmen, Isabella, and now some unnamed female at the time who always had her mouth sucking at his. I had busied myself as much as possible, but always freed myself of any prior engagements if Klaus asked to spend time together. Soon though, I stopped changing my schedule on a whim because every single time I wanted to hang out, he was busy with one of his girlfriends, and when he actually asked to hang together, the female tagged along anyways, making me a third wheel. I absolutely hated it. I busied myself more than ever, adding color to my drawings for a teacher who paid well and immediately going over to the house of an old couple who wanted a drawing that they could pass down to their grandkids, packing up after the initial sketch to finish at home so that I could make it to the next house that I had on my list. A frequent customer who just wanted little drawings of things that varied from ten cents to three whole dollars. She went to the same school as me and I had her in a few of my classes, but I was starting to like her a bit because we would chat the whole time I was drawing. I was still hopelessly in love with Klaus, but maybe I could bring myself to think about the possibility of dating at some point. The point was that, I had been so busy avoiding Klaus so that none of the horrible feelings I had bubbled up and out of my mouth, that I didn't notice he was even at my house, completely broken and waiting for me. I had just said hello to my ma and headed up the stairs to finish the painting for the couple that was paying extra for the painting to be finished within the week. I just sat down in my room and started working, not bothering to turn around when someone came in since I thought it was ma, but I was wrong. So, so, very wrong. Klaus had gotten kicked out of the orphanage he was forced to live in and he had been miserable all week, having been to nervous to ask for help from me. Damn me and my filthy feelings about him. Damn me and my jealousy about his tongue in the mouth of every single girl he looked at. Damn me and my horrible, horrible thoughts. I caved immediately under his gaze, putty in his hands, and I wanted him in my arms more than anything in the world. Hours later, and I had the light on in my room, still working on the project in front of me, but I could barely focus on it because Klaus was there, fidgeting and moving and tense, adjusting his position over and over again. The whole house was asleep except for the two of us, and I could barely control myself as he eventually gave up on watching me paint and stripped to his underwear and climbed into my bed. I knew that whatever filthy thoughts I were having were just that, thoughts, but I had no idea that two men could ever get past the point of just kissing and light touches. After what happened, I never thought that my thoughts were filthy again, because kissing and touching was pure and special, not filthy. What happened was filthy. It wasn't special. It wasn't right or good or innocent. It was disgusting and everywhere and I will regret it for the rest of my life. _

_ It's somewhere close to midnight as I'm writing this and I can still feel the mistake all over my hands because as soon as Klaus was safely asleep, I was up and vomiting. I don't know if I should write down what the mistake was, I'm terrified that someone could find out, but I know that if I don't, nobody will ever know and I won't ever be able to get this off my chest. It was so, so bad. _

_ I want to tell myself that it was the booze. I really do, but I had no idea that it was impossible for me to get drunk. I had no idea that I had accidentally gotten my best friend drunk off his ass and horribly wasted as I sat there, unable to comprehend why the liquor wasn't working. I had stolen cheap alcohol from downstairs in my pop's cabinet, the type nobody would know was missing, and I poured two large glasses upstairs, trying to get Klaus to loosen up and stop fidgeting as he laid in the bed. We downed the whole bottle together on accident because I kept pouring without thinking about why I wasn't tipsy, to confused to notice Klaus getting worse and worse. By the time it was gone, my best friend was totally bummed and shit-faced. And I took advantage of that. I took advantage of him. I pinned him down and had my way with him as tears leaked out of his eyes and his little moans escaped the otherwise silent ordeal. I had his arms above him in one hand and the other hand down his pants before I could stop myself, my mouth on his, and for once, it wasn't some random girl that had her mouth on his, it was mine and everything felt so right for those few moments. Then his back arched upwards and he whined quietly, falling back onto the bed, panting as he struggled to take a breath. That's when everything I just did hit me like a brick to the face and I froze, arms on either side of his body, looking down at his face, the tears and saliva mixing. I felt like I was going to vomit, the stickiness coating my hand the worst feeling in the world. When he fell asleep under me, that's exactly what I did. I got away and vomited right into the bin next to my work desk. I had my face in that can for a full half an hour, spewing until there was nothing left and sobbing in the quiet darkness of a horrible and wretched mistake that would haunt me like a ghost for the rest of my life. I didn't deserve him, I didn't have the right, he wasn't mine to touch, but I was an idiot, a horrible, awful person with no right to live. Dear lord, there is nothing I want more than to throw myself off of the roof right now, but I couldn't just leave a night like that without some sort of apology. When he woke up, I would apologize. As many times as it took. I don't expect him to forgive me, and honestly, I hope he never does. I don't deserve to love him. I don't think I do love him. How could I love him if I had just done something so horribly wrong that it hurt? _

_ \------------------ _

_ May 29, 1935 _

_ I'm still avoiding him. I don't think I will ever talk to him again. I can't. I won't. I can't apologize for something he doesn't remember. I can bring myself to say sorry hundreds of times and throw himself off a building to prove it, but I can't tell him what I did. I can't. I'm too weak. I don't know what to do. I completely swamped myself with my work, not even letting myself sleep or eat more than a few bites whenever eating with the family, all so that I could drown myself in paint and water and canvas. I still can't sleep. I haven't slept since three days ago when the last nightmare happened. Klaus tried to corner me in the hall at school today, but I ran before he could get to me. It's the silent punishment I've given myself. Talking and being with Klaus is what gets me to wake up every day. Soon school will be out and I won't have to see him for the whole summer. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ Fuck it. Who the hell says I can't throw myself off the roof. I know that I promised I wouldn't do it until after the apology, but all of that is null now. I didn't factor in the argument. Klaus had slammed into my room, crying and shaking. Screaming at me and demanding an explanation for avoiding him for so long. He had broken up with his girlfriend because he thought it was because he was spending too much time with her and not enough with me, but it wasn't why I didn't want to talk to him. I just looked down, staring at the floor the whole time he yelled at me, begged for me to say something, and sobbed into my lap, but I had to turn myself away. I didn't deserve him. I don't deserve him. I was the worst type of person there was, and I was too much of a coward to own up to it. I just want to die. I made him hate me, he left my room, furious and hurt beyond repair, the rest of my family confused and mildly scared. The twins curled up next to me, holding my hands as I quietly sobbed into my lap, unable to stand myself. _

_ May 30, 1935 _

_ I scared myself sometimes. Early in the morning when it was still dark, I just walked out of the house and towards the river, picking up stones and putting them in my pockets as I went. I was shoulder deep into the water before I realized what I was doing and stopped, standing there, trying to convince myself that taking a step backwards was the right choice. It took a few minutes, but soon I was on the river bank again, urging myself to walk away. Just walk away from the river. The sky had started turning a light gray, and I tried to reason with myself, trying to tell myself to go back home, but then I saw a stone about the size of a fist right next to my foot and I just picked it up, slid it into my pocket and walked back into the water. It took two early morning runners who saw me walk back into the river to go splashing in after me and a half an hour of struggling to finally get me back to the river's bank. I had quite the fight with my own brain in the span of five minutes, eventually convincing myself that safety was the best option, and asking both of them to accompany me home so I didn't have any last minute doubts. They both agreed and the three of us walked back to my house, soaking wet and dripping water everywhere. They dropped me at the front door and I just walked back up to my room, ignoring the shocked faces of my parents and sisters as I walked through the front door looking like I had just taken a shower in my pajamas. I dumped the stones out of my window, not wanting to keep them around. _

Steve paused in his reading, all of his barriers still up against the outside world, but he felt guilt in his gut, weighing him down like he swallowed bricks. Grant had built up the walls in his mind to protect himself from the thoughts of his own brain, it was a fucked up cycle that continued even now. Steve could feel it. Although he was still frustrated at Klaus, Steve felt pity for kid Klaus who had no idea what went wrong.

"Almost there." Steve picked up the voice next to him that was thick with regret covered with a fake overly cheery sound he usually got from Bruce when Steve tried to ask about how therapy was. He knew that Bruce didn't like to talk about his broken mental state from the hulk, but Steve had tried his best to be there for the team. It was a slow process, trying his best to make sure that Tony ate and slept every day, trying to make places where Bruce had a calmer environment when he needed it, carving time in his schedule to sit with Natasha so she didn't feel so alone and she could have someone to talk to whenever she wanted, occasionally calling Clint from out of the vents, gently coaxing him into open arms whenever the archer was having a bad day, or just making sure that there was always a place for Thor in his room whenever he was feeling a little worse for wear, which was quite a lot more time than Steve had anticipated. It had always been his job, his place in the world to take care of the people he cared about. He listened to the complaints, the nightmares, the odd ramblings, and even the occasional joke of anyone who needed an ear, but he never complained about it or asked to talk about himself. Last time Steve did anything for himself, it had resulted in catastrophe in the form of a whole branch of government being wiped from existence, three giant warships being blown to bits with him still inside, the death of hundreds if not thousands as the ships crashed in Washington DC, and the loss of his best friend, ending in a mistake that exploded in his face and shot him into a strange life with a stranger history and no fucking clue how he had gotten there. So, all he did was nod silently and return to reading, sometimes skipping through, sometimes not, but from what he read, the friendship between the two was almost nonexistent and Grant was building more and more walls in his mind as he became increasingly suicidal and self deprecating. He wouldn't sleep for days at a time, barely sleeping at all when he could fall asleep, but having horrible nightmares that woke him before he could actually rest. It had been months since he had started avoiding Klaus and his health was on a constant spiral downwards. Until everything went wrong. The entries stopped. Just like the files, the entries seemed to be missing a couple months, then a few weeks at a time, the entries becoming less frequent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously a long and very complicated chapter. There will be more things from the journal, so keep in mind that there will be more history between the two and history not between them. Don't worry, the friendship will eventually be resolved somewhat, but there will always be scars, especially when it seems that Grant finally starts to move on.


	5. Meet the Ladies and start crying over a planet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The same warnings from the last chapter apply here. You have been warned.

_ November 9, 1935 _

_ Klaus showed up after not being seen for weeks on the doorstep of my house, hiccuping from excessive amounts of alcohol and nearly falling over multiple times as he smiled while his head was in the clouds. The guilt knotted in my stomach, having seen him like this at school as well, though not quite so drunk and high. He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth lightly, heavily inhaling the damn thing like he needed the smoke like he needed oxygen. For the past four months, Klaus had been getting high at every possible moment and washing it down with whatever damn alcohol he could get his hands on. Every day I would see him at school, shoving his tongue messily down whatever girl was closest and being overly grabby, making whichever whore he was with giggle like a child. Meanwhile, I had been working nonstop, extending to every option available to me when It came to drawing. I would always do the occasional drawing or painting for a teacher or student, but mainly I focused on the bigger picture, like designing a sign for the downtown corner store that would be paying quite the amount in cash. I had also become friends with Annah, the regular customer who I like to talk with. She was very kind honest, and just wanted the company, so I had stopped charging her for the little drawings I did as I sat in her house almost every day. Truth was, I could use the company as well. Back to Klaus, he was about to fall over with how drunk he was, so against my better judgement, I dragged him inside to sit down and placed a bucket in front of him because he had gone a little green around the gills. Ma and Pa went out with the girls a little while ago, but I didn't go with them so that I could finish the paintings I had started of the twins. Lucky that they were gone, or else Klaus would have never been allowed back into the house again. They had all heard the argument, or at least the sounds on yelling, and Ma was strictly against the idea of having anyone in the house who had drank more than a single glass due to the horrifying experience that Klaus's dad caused by drinking. But I was dumb and I pulled him upstairs to my room, worried about him. I moved all of my work supplies to a corner of the room and I helped him out of his jacket as he swayed back and forth, giggling to himself in a manner that had me a lot more that concerned all of a sudden, I was fucking terrified on hundreds of levels. I had to help the little shit out of his clothes once he vomited on himself and I got horribly conscious of every move I made as if I was a wild animal that needed to be kept sedated. The guilt and worry that was stabbing at my stomach fed off of me as I helped Klaus into the shower, closing my eyes as panic swelled in my chest, scared that I might break him if I tugged to hard or terrified to even touch him as if I had no control over my own body. I got Klaus into new clothes that I let him borrow and then shuffled him into my bed as he was half passed out already. He's been sleeping for the last few hours, but I can't relax around him or else something bad will happen. I can't go through something like that again, I refuse to even think about him in any way other than just my friend. What would Ma think if she knew just what kind of monster she had raised and kept in her home? _

_ November 11, 1935 _

_ Klaus has finally started to act reasonably sober. He was drunk as hell yesterday, the copious amounts of liquor having carried through the night and into the day. After three or four hours of bleary consciousness where I had forced Klaus to eat part of a cheese sandwich, he had passed out once again, sleeping without a care in the world. All four hours that he was awake, I had made sure that he was drinking water, eating small amounts of food, and was within spewing distance of a bucket at all times because the idiot became a child when he was sad and wasted. I had to wipe his nose when it ran, hold the water glass to his lips before he tried taking a sip, wipe his mouth every time he vomited, and then also half carry the poor guy to the toilet every time he needed to relieve himself. It wasn't impossible to keep Kalus hidden from my family because usually I was shut in my room all day anyway, but the only problem popped up when I had my house calls later in the day. He had fallen asleep, so I just covered him in blankets, left him a note and a glass of water, then went to a few different houses. Okay, so I may or may not have lost track of time while talking to Annah, but I was lucky enough that Klaus didn't wake up while I was gone since I had not been at the house for around five or six hours. I feel like I can tell Annah anything, just like I once was able to do with Klaus, but despite that, I never talked about any feelings I might have about either of them. Things are getting strange. _

_ December 25, 1935 _

_ Klaus and I fixed our friendship. It might not be back to the point it was before because of the secrets I'm keeping, but it's gotten close. I'm helping him every day to get better from the months of drinking and drugs and constant sex because he had gotten addicted, but he's trying really hard to get over it all because he doesn't want to end up like his pa. Ma figured out that I was helping Klaus by hiding him in my room about a week ago when she walked in on him half naked and tangled in my blankets while I was on the other side of the room getting paints for the family portrait I was completing for a man at the bank. She moved Klaus into the guest room down the hall and she pulled me aside saying that we needed to talk. I'm pretty sure that we are going to have that talk now and I'm not looking forward to it. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ I now know that when my Ma means talk, she means the "be safe" and "do you properly know how to do it" talk. It was not what I was expecting from her, and I was happy that she didn't think that two men together was wrong, but I was very embarrassed and didn't leave my room for a few hours. I assured her that Klaus and I were not doing anything along those lines, repeatedly reminding her about his multiple girlfriends, but I could tell that she was relieved. I really do love my Ma. She's the best Ma in the world. _

_ December 26, 1935 _

_ I had used the money from my paintings to get my family very nice presents, getting one for Klaus as always, but I also got one for Annah. I went over to her house today and invited her to our Holiday Dinner that happened on the night of the new year since her parents are never home around this time of the year. Thankfully, she said yes and I spent the rest of the day with her. She asked me to teach her how to draw, so we ended up spending hours just talking and laughing as we worked on our skills with pencils and brushes. The money I made from my business went towards getting myself the items I needed to make better and more expensive art pieces, but I felt a certain bit of accomplishment on being able to make this much money in a time where it really wasn't easy. It was a business based on making people happy. If you can make them happy in the middle of the worst time of their life, then they will pay any amount of money to keep it that way. I like it when I can make Annah happy and I can't help but notice how pretty she is getting every time I go to her house and draw. She has the most beautiful blonde hair that he always has up in a knot and has lovely blue eyes, but I can't help but think what it would look like if it was down and on her shoulders. Someday I'll ask her to take it down for me so that I can draw her. She never wears dresses because she does not like them, but I wonder if she would wear one for me when I painted her picture. I can't wait to introduce her to Klaus. I'm sure that they will get along thrillingly. _

_ January 1, 1936 _

_ It's early morning right now, I haven't been able to sleep. Klaus and Annah have been asleep for somewhere close to an hour, both of them laying on the rug surrounded in blankets. The twins have woken up and asked to spend the rest of the night with us, so I told them that they could as long as they didn't wake anyone up and they went right to sleep. They are sneaking around the house and grabbing pillows and blankets so that we can all curl up on the floor together. The night didn't really go as planned, but it all turned out wonderfully in the end. I walked down to Annah's house so that I could accompany her to the Holiday Dinner, but when she opened the door, I was very surprised. She had been crying, so I came it right away and took care of her until she was all better. She let me help her pick out a nice outfit to wear to the Dinner, and she let me do her hair. I have been doing my Ma's hair since I was a kid and the twins quickly intervened to get me to do their hair as well, so I knew exactly what I was doing when I braided her hair and curled it into a nice bun at the bottom of her neck. I let a few strands loose from the tight bun so that they could frame her face and I'm pretty sure that I am now required to do her hair whenever she wants me to because she REALLY liked it. She looked beautiful in a dress as I walked her to my house and I couldn't help but smile the whole way home. I introduced her to Ma and Pa and the girls as my friend, so I immediately noticed that she had easily become part of the family just like Klaus had all those years ago. Introducing Annah to Klaus was a whole other problem. For most of my life, he was the only friend I had, and suddenly when I had ignored him with no explanation, I had become friends with the most beautiful lady either of us had seen. I could feel my face turn red in embarrassment as Klaus flirted shamelessly with her, feeling as if he would scare her off, but Annah was a strong woman and she politely declined his flirting while joking with him as well. Soon we were all laughing and joking together with Rosemarie and Elizabeth as more guests appeared for the Holiday Dinner, bringing different foods with them to contribute. When we sat down to eat and the happy chatter began, quite a few people recognized Annah and greeted her, asking if she was in a relationship yet. She was increasingly polite as the night went on, so I could tell that she was getting uncomfortable. I sent the twins to bed around ten o'clock so that they could get some sleep and took Annah and Klaus to a quieter section of the house to talk so that they would both be more comfortable. As the night dragged on and more people got drunk, I was reminded of the time when I was a child when I had kissed Klaus while he was sleeping and suddenly, my mood was shattered with the guilt. Klaus and Annah must have noticed that I wasn't as light hearted as before, because when midnight came around, I got a kiss on each cheek from both of my friends. My mood was immediately restored in a matter of seconds as we finally felt the party starting to dissipate as guests left. I asked Annah to spend the night and she gladly accepted when I offered her a change of clothes from Ma's room. After all three of us got changed into sleep clothes, we gathered blankets and pillows in my room and chatted for a few more hours until Klaus and Annah fell asleep and I got up to write. I still can't sleep well and I don't want to risk waking up screaming when people are present. I'm sure that the nightmares would be much worse with Klaus so close. I can't wait for the morning when I can give everyone the presents I have gotten them. _

_ January 1, 1936 _

_ It's about noon. Klaus and Annah are on the couch, smiling and laughing together as I sit in my Pa's chair, writing about the last few hours. After the two of them woke up and walked to the kitchen with me as I carried the two still sleeping girls and put them on the couch, I started to make everyone breakfast since Klaus was hopelessly lost when it came to cooking and this was the first time Annah had been a guest over night so I didn't really ask her to help. Ma and Pa came into the kitchen not long after, waking up the two little ones to eat and sitting down at the table. After the meal was finished, we all wandered into the sitting room and made ourselves comfortable as Pa passed out the presents. I had painted Ma a lovely picture of herself to keep, I gave Pa a new coffee mug, and the twins got new dresses. I watched as Klaus opened the present that I had given him, nearly jumping out of my seat in excitement. I had given him the first picture of us ever taken. I found it in the back of Ma's closet and saved up money to have it framed. I swear on my life that I saw him cry a bit, but he turned away too quickly for me to be sure. Then it was Annah's turn. I gave her the small box personally because I wanted to see the look on her face when I gave it to her. It was a rectangle box with black velvet on the outside and when she saw it, her eyes went so wide I thought that they were going to pop out of her head. When she opened it, I know she cried because she had to wipe away the tears falling onto her cheeks. It was a necklace with a little glass teardrop containing the colors of a sunset. I had picked the delicate silver chain myself and had carefully secured the glass into the metal holding it in place after many, many hours. I helped her secure it onto her neck, and despite the fact that the hair I had done yesterday was a complete mess, she had a little syrup on her cheek, and she was in one of my Ma's old shirts and a pair of my old pants, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. I think that I might actually like her a little in the same way I like Klaus. Things really are confusing sometimes. _

Steve felt the truck stop for the first time in hours and he closed the journal, keeping a straight face as he looked around at a German military base. Tucking the book under his arm next to the gun that still rested on his hip, he stepped out of the truck where a few men were waiting to unload the back of the vehicle. Nodding at them, he walked to the back of the truck and untied the ropes holding everything together and took out the boxes, silently gesturing for them to stay put for the time being. The few men grabbed the desk, hauling it off the bed of the truck and quickly maneuvering it through the crowds and mayhem that large machines caused, taking it into the base. 

"Look at what the wind finally dragged in Ladies! The Golden Eagle and his pretty little partner in crime, our Northern Harrier Hawk." Steve turned to look towards three women who were all quickly making their way towards the two of them with strong strides. All three of them were unique to put it lightly, but all of them seemed to be completely in sync. They were walking at three points, an intimidation tactic as well as an effectively weaponised stance in battle, the three of them prepped for an attack coming from anywhere. At the mid point stood a brunette with hair so light that it was almost silvery blonde. She was pale and thin with steel gray eyes, but she was obviously well toned and strong, possibly strong enough to stand a chance against a supersoldier. She was wearing a white skirt that came down to her knees with a button up blouse tucked neatly into the waist and covered with a black denim jacket. Her hair was pulled back into a neat french braid that made her seen taller and more imposing than she actually was, but despite looking like she could kill you with a single gaze, the smile she wore while walking over to the two men was brilliant. The other two women didn't seem to be quite obsessed with their looks, but they were both dressed neatly. The woman on the left had a light peach tone on her skin to compliment the red tint in her dark brown hair that was pulled tight into a bun at her neck and her sharp brown eyes. She was wearing a dark red dress belted at the waist and a brown overcoat to compliment the look. The last woman was wearing trousers with a big belt that kept them from falling off her thin frame. She had a gray man's short sleeved shirt tucked in at the waist puffing out and hanging on her tiny frame. She had suspenders pinning the shirt to her chest and looked just like a little kid. The only thing that proved she wasn't was the shape of her bosom and her sharp blue eyes that pierced into every corner and person around her. She had a shock of bright blonde hair that was loosely thrown into a messy ponytail and pulled out of her face so that a gray cap could be shoved onto her head. Steve could immediately tell which bird name belonged to the women in front of him just because of their clothing and mannerisms that echoed that of their bird namesakes. The tall female in white was the Snowy Owl with features suggesting Russian backgrounds, the strawberry brunette was the Red Tailed Hawk, proudly sporting French features that made sense with the name Yvette, and the last woman was the Peregrine Falcon, her short stature, soft features, and hardened eyes suggesting German. 

All three of them were smiling happily as they greeted the two men, but Steve found that his gaze kept drifting to Yvette unconsciously. When she caught his eye, he smiled warmly and murmured a quiet hello while keeping his guard up, knowing that if he made even the slightest mistake, she would see it. She looked at him confused, and went silent as her eyes flickered over him once, taking in his posture, hand placements, and facial expressions in less than a second. Studying him openly for a few more seconds by looking him right in the eyes, he looked into her eyes as well, fully knowing that she would find nothing but hard, dull stone. She huffed a bit, pouting lightly, her voice low. "You're usually more open than this Grant. I can't see anything and it's sort of freaking me out, you normally let us see the fact that you are annoyed if you get upset."

Steve noticed that the others had gone quiet until Klaus stepped forward, breaking the silence. "Don't worry about him. He's just mad that I'm making him go to sleep instead of letting him work all night." 

All three of the women looked over at him with disappointed gazes until the woman in white spoke up in a light Russian accent. "We heard about your last mission. You shouldn't have gone alone when we were running short on resources. Gunpowder is no longer an efficient lighting trail when we run out of cordite. Especially in the winter."

Steve smiled grimly and shrugged with no emotion in his voice. "I know that now." Turning to the boxes on the ground as the men who hauled away the desk and closet came back, he picked up three of them and left the other four to the soldiers. Turning to follow the men, he shrugged towards his teammates with a slight expression of amusement on his face. "I've got work." Then, he left them to catch up with the soldiers that were carrying his things, hearing a whispered "Did you two fight?" from behind him. Steve felt a little bad about leaving the people that seemed to care behind in the dust, but he was barely containing how bitter everything had made him feel. He had no idea why he was angry, he had no reason to be. Grant would probably be the one that was angry, but Steve had no clue what was bothering him so much. Unless being in Grant's body affected how he felt about things. Sighing, Steve just followed the men to a hall with a dozen or so doors and entered the first room on the left. It had the desk and closet already placed in the room the same way that the tent had been set up, so Steve felt like he was decently familiar with the place. Putting down the boxes and waving away the men who had carried the other ones, Steve unpacked his things, exhausted and worn down. He slipped the metal box back into the desk, slid every file back into its place in the drawers, arranged the books on the shelves, put away all the clothes, and placed all the weapons back into their spots, finally able to flop down into his chair with a loud sigh. Opening the journal up where he left off, Steve read the neat writing covering every page, mentally making notes of things that happened different from every entry.

_ April 30, 1936 _

_ Only a month or so left until summer. I'm so tired of school, I'm not the best with math or science, but Ma says I have the brain of a wise army general and the subjects just bore me because I'm too smart. It's sort of strange that I haven't noticed it before, but she is right. I don't think that I have ever come across a strategy game that I haven't excelled at. Just last week, I creamed the captain of the chess club at his own game. Klaus had dragged me into the after school activity because there was a girl there that he had his eye on, so he asked her to teach him how to play. I ended up sitting in the corner, waiting for them to finish the stuttered learning for the first ten minutes. That is, until the captain asked if I wanted to learn. I said yes because it was better than just sitting around and doing nothing, but I was so lost in the beginning that he beat me easily every time. That is until Klaus and Renate (the girl) walked over since Klaus was finished asking her out and no longer wanted to deal with chess. Thankfully, Renate elected to explain chess to me over again since I was making mistakes every step of the way. It was not anything like checkers and the captain had just caused me to be more confused. Soon enough though, I was rubbing his face in the dirt for teaching me wrong. Out of 17 games, He won the first two and I easily won the rest. Chess is incredibly easy. Easy as checkers. For the past few months, Klaus has been taking me random places whenever Annah wasn't available to come with us, and every time the place was more different than before. It's sort of starting to bug him that I beat him at every game we play together, but it's alright now because I like throwing a baseball at a target while Klaus likes hitting them, so we usually play baseball together on the weekends. I'm still pretty busy with my paintings, but I have been getting better at them, so it becomes easier to finish with time to spare. I still go over to Annah's house almost every day to draw with her, even if her parents are there. I have met them a few times and I think they like me, but they are not often around. She still wears the necklace I got her and she told me that she hasn't taken it off once except for baths and bed. I think I like her. _

_ July 4, 1936 _

_ Happy sixteenth birthday to me. I think that maybe today was a really good day. It sure felt like it. Klaus has gone through seven more girlfriends. It's getting out of hand, but if it keeps his mind away from getting drunk then I can't be mad. I can be jealous and bitter and needy, but I can't be angry at him. He isn't mine, so what right do I have to keep him from being happy. I spent the day with my family, Klaus, and Annah. There was nothing I might have changed about the day except for one thing. The look that Klaus gave me. The two of us were hanging out with Annah and Marita (Klaus's new girlfriend) in a small park and I got the feeling that Klaus needed to talk to me about something. He had been different all day, quieter and looking at me whenever he thought I wasn't looking, but I noticed the way he nearly jumped out of his skin when I touched his back to get his attention. It was really strange, but it reminded me of something familiar that I couldn't quite put my finger on, so I decided to set up a moment where we could be alone. I knew that it was a bad idea for me to be alone with him, but it really looked like he needed to talk to someone. I asked Annah and Marita to grab drinks from the store because Klaus looked a little airy and on the verge of passing out, so I moved him over to a bench while giving Annah some money. I turned to talk to him, but Annah had come back before I could say anything, kissed me full on the lips, said happy birthday, and ran away to get the drinks. Sure it was a surprise to both of us, but Klaus didn't need to look at me like I had just murdered a small child. The way he looked at me after that moment actually scared me because I hadn't seen him look that terrified since the incident with his Pops. I can't get my hopes up even though that's how I reacted when he first got a girlfriend, but it wouldn't make sense. He has had multiple girlfriends, kissed many more girls, and even went on an alcohol and drug fueled sex streak for almost four months. I don't think that it makes sense. Would he ever like me like that? He can't like me like that, I can't let him. I've messed up too bad for him to ever think of me as anything more than just a friend. What is going on? This world is going to the dogs. _

_ July 5, 1936 _

_ Something went wrong. Maybe Klaus does like me? I don't know for sure, but I'm pretty sure that it would explain the reason he appeared on the doorstep after missing for hours, drunker than I have ever seen him and sobbing. The second I touched him, he had fallen into my arms and started bawling his eyes out as I just held him in the middle of the doorway. I had to actually carry him to my room because he was crying so hard that he couldn't stand, much less walk. I felt horrible the whole time, just laying in bed with him for hours as he kept on sobbing into my shirt and even longer after he passed out, the sounds of soft hiccups terrifying me because I thought he was choking on the tears that continued to leak out of his eyes long after he had fallen asleep. I stayed there with him for the longest time, not daring to close my eyes as panic swelled in my chest. I refused to move for the whole night as he slept, frozen to the spot from fear of waking him up and also because of what happened last time I was this close to him while he was drunk. Klaus talks a lot when he is asleep after drinking, but I can't understand any of it. Everything he says anyways sounds like he is speaking about jam. It's all in his Pops's language. I'll pick up a few books on learning French later. I'm sure that I'll pick it up easy since I've already become quite good at English and it's the strangest language I have ever had the displeasure of learning. Klaus had woken up once during the night to hurl into the toilet, but he ran into the doorframe instead and spewed down my shirt when I had to pick him up off the ground. By the time he was done vomiting, most of my back and all of my front was soaked with the stench of booze because the contents of Klaus's stomach completely covered us both. I had to carry him to the shower and put him inside. While I was busy stripping him of his vomit clothes, he had fallen back asleep and I had to wake him up again so that I could wash him. It was an unpleasant night filled with stress, but after he sobered up a bit once morning came around and Ma came to wake me, he had finally been alert enough to speak English. Which I figured wasn't very alert because the second he saw my face he whispered "fucking fuck" and promptly started crying again. I waved Ma away when she gave me a concerned look, but due to Klaus clinging to me and laying on my chest, I didn't get up for a long while. I was surprised when I woke up because I didn't expect to have fallen asleep, but for the first time since I was fourteen, I slept for almost five hours in a row. Usually I woke up from the constant nightmares two or three hour hours into falling asleep. There were no nightmares this time, but there was Klaus who had moved at some point while we were asleep. When I woke up, he was sleeping with an open mouth and ended up drooling all over my forehead. It's extremely painful for me to see him when he's asleep. It looks like there is nothing wrong in the world when there isn't any worry lines in between his eyes and no telltale dip to his lips as he frowns. I know that I'm technically supposed to be dating Annah since she kissed me and a gentleman only kisses their wife or girlfriend, but there's nothing I wouldn't do to kiss Klaus again. This time with his permission because every time I have kissed him, I didn't ask and I don't want lack of permission to become a habit. If I was living in the future, would things be different? Would I be able to kiss Klaus? Could I be with him? Would I be able to marry him and have kids of our own with a house and a family? I know that it will never happen, but what would happen if I could be a father with Klaus? If we could start a family, I would want a little girl. I want to name her Virginia. I wonder what she would look like. I hope she has Klaus's freckles and eyes. Or the nice red color or Klaus's mother's hair. Just imagine, a little Klaus with freckles and red hair. She would be the most beautiful woman on the planet when she grew up. _

Steve allowed himself a brief smile at the thought of Grant and Klaus in 2014, completely free to express themselves and have that baby girl. Flipping through the pages to see how much of the journal was left, he saw a wrinkled page covered in rusty brown droplets, only a few sentences quickly scribbled onto the paper. He backtracked in the book and continued reading, not wanting to gain information out of context.

_ September 5, 1936 _

_ I have officially been dating Annah for two months now. Or three. Or one. I can't really remember since I have been drowning myself in commitment yet again. After Klaus's sobbing relapse, we had been drifting apart just like we always seemed to do. But then, Klaus got sick. Really, really sick. The level of sickness that I would have had if I was younger. He had to go to the hospital and everyone thought he was going to die, even me. I took Annah to see him after he had been in the hospital for three days and she ended up crying as I held her in my arms. Klaus wouldn't talk to me. He wouldn't talk to anyone, but every time I walked into the room, he turned himself away or pretended to be asleep. I could tell from the sound of his breathing and heartbeat when he was actually asleep. There was a drip tube in his arm, I don't actually know what it was putting into his body, but it scared me to see that there was something wrong with his insides when I couldn't see it from the outside. Until I could see it on the outside. Klaus suddenly got really pale and shaky one night and I couldn't do anything to save him as he drifted away from me slowly as I sat next to him. His eyes were glassy the next day like someone had taken his soul from him and stashed it in a bottle, but the worst part was that he stopped turning away or pretending when he was with me because he didn't recognize me or anyone else. The doctors didn't know what was wrong with him, and that meant that neither did I, but I needed to know so that I could fix him. I made everyone promise not to tell Klaus that I yelled at a lot of doctors whenever they came in saying that they couldn't fix whatever was wrong, but it had implied that Klaus would get better and everyone knew that he wouldn't. I stayed with him every second that I could, holding his hand for the whole week that he looked like a zombie, even when he fell asleep. Sometimes Ma or Pa would spend the night in the hospital with me, but otherwise, I was alone with him most of the time. Alone with him and my thoughts. I thought that maybe he could hear me if I talked to him, so that's what I did. I talked to him whenever he fell asleep and I read to him from my journal every time he was awake. When I got to the part where I made the mistake that ruined our friendship, I started to cry. I cried and apologized over and over again, for hours as he just looked at me with his empty eyes. I felt as if I didn't apologize now, I would never get the chance ever again, so I just poured out my heart for him. I told him everything. The happiness of finding him when I was a kid, the feelings I had for him, the time I kissed him at the Holiday Dinner so long ago, how it felt to me, how I wanted to do it over and over again until the time with his Pops when I finally did kiss him again, but he had brushed it off. I told him about how hard it was for me to adjust to my new body, how jealous I had been when he got a girlfriend, how I wanted to be the one kissing him like that, every detail of the awful mistake I had made, and the anger and sadness I had stored up in me. I sobbed as I told him about the attempts to kill myself, the battles I fought in my brain every day while trying to recover from the guilt that constantly built in my chest every day, the feelings and terror I felt when he got drunk and came home to me after disappearing for almost two weeks and I had to take care of him, the nervousness I had when I helped him get better, the talk Ma had with me about the relationship between the two of us, and the secret wishes I had every day. I talked about the day at the park when Annah kissed me and how he had disappeared again, coming back drunker than ever, telling him how horribly scared I was the whole time, not knowing if he was going to die on my chest because of an overdose or if he would wake up angry at me. I talked to him as tears slid down his pale and hollow cheeks, and I begged him to come back to me because I didn't want to live without him. I couldn't live without him. He was my everything, my other half, the reason I was alive. I quietly begged for him to come back as he fell asleep and I listened to his heart as it weakened in his chest and his breath rattled as it came out of his lungs. I sobbed as his body grew quieter and quieter as I clung to the weak pulse in his fingertips. I screamed for him to come back as his body went silent to my ears and the doctors rushed in, trying to pry me away as I grabbed him by the front of the shirt and shook him, yelling a colorful plethora of profanities. I cried with relief when he shouted at me with a hoarse voice. I never thought I would be relived to hear the words "stop fucking shaking me you ass" as much as I evidently did, but it meant that Klaus had come back to me after flirting with death, so I just held him in my arms. For a few hours. While possibly sobbing all over him. And maybe crushing him a bit. He spent a few days in the hospital to make sure that the mystery sickness didn't come back, but he didn't. I refused to leave his side for anything. I held his hand all day, making sure he didn't fall over if we went for a walk in the hallways, or holding it whenever he felt dizzy, of just holding on and feeling his pulse when the doctor changed whatever was in the drip tube. Even when we just laid down together in the small bed, I would be holding his hand or holding him close to me. I never let go of him, because I was scared that if I did, he would leave me all over again and I would be alone. So far, I have no idea if he ever heard me when he was drifting away, but I sort of hope that he did hear me and still wants to be my friend despite all of my horrible mistakes. I don't expect him to return my feelings for him, but it's nice to dream. Especially when in my dreams, Klaus and I live in the future with a nice little house. We would have two or three kids running around, the little girl would be named Virginia and look just like Klaus, but the little boy would be named Edward and would look like me. In my dreams, everything would be perfect, because even if Klaus and I fought, we would still be together until we die. _

_ December 3, 1936 _

_ Things are happening over in Europe, I think that there is going to be a war. The news makes it seem sort of bad and tangled up, but I think that I need to be there. For some reason or another. And it's not to avoid Klaus. Absolutely not. Not in a million years. Alright, maybe it is just a little bit. I mean, I can't be blamed since I really have been having a certain amount of trouble controlling my feelings once Annah told me why she started dating me in the first place. Every time I looked into Klaus's eyes or saw him smile, that feeling I had for him flared up all over again. I can't call it love because it isn't. Nobody who loved someone would have done what I did. Every time I think about it though, all of the guilt comes back and it hurts. The guilt feels like a stab in the gut or a bullet through a lung. Actually, I knew how painful a bullet through a lung can be, so I can be completely confident when I say that the guilt hurts so much worse. I know that I had finally apologized after all this time, but it still didn't forgive anything I did and I'm not even sure if the apology counted or not. The thing is that I can't be having these feelings for another man, much less Klaus, but it really does not help when your girlfriend likes females and has been in a relationship with one for years now. Annah had told me about how people were getting suspicious, so she believed that it would be in her best interests to start dating me to lead the suspicious people away from the truth. It hurt when she told me, I'm not going to lie, but I couldn't help but be a tiny bit relieved that I wouldn't break her heart when I ended up leaving her eventually. Annah was a beautiful, strong, and independent woman, but she was too beautiful for me and too collected. Apparently, I was into broken people like me who could be flawed and themselves whenever they wanted. Someone who was beautiful in the way that they looked perfect to anyone who bothered looking close enough, and dear lord, was I looking close. Someone with messy hair that was always kept just a little bit long, or hazel eyes that nobody could tell the color of unless they stared into the eyes for hours on end while still finding new colors. Or maybe someone who got a little bit drunk every so often, always coming back home speaking French and vomiting all over the place. Someone with light skin and cinnamon freckles, pink cheeks and a narrow nose that was just begging to be kissed. Someone with stars in their eyes that never stopped burning, delicate fingers that fluttered lightly over my biceps on occasion, round little ears with a bit of a point at the end that blushed a fantastic variety of pink, and soft lips that were often chapped or broken, causing their tongue to slide over the cracks subconsciously. Someone with a little scar right under their left eye from playing too hard when they were eight years old, or a rough patch of skin on their back right under the neck where they had scratched one too many times as a child, causing it to become rough and almost calloused. Someone who had been through hell and back when it came to family, but still picked up the pieces of their broken life to try and put it together the best way that they could. Someone like Klaus. Someone who WAS Klaus. It terrified me beyond belief that I could feel this way about anyone, but I knew that I had to get rid of the cause before I could start working on the problem. There is no way in hell that I would ever get rid of Klaus, so I would have to do the next best thing and get rid of myself by leaving the whole equation. _

_ March 30, 1937 _

_ I have gotten someone in one of my classes at school to slightly edit my official papers to have me born just one year earlier so that I can attempt at enlisting. It wasn't too hard to do, but it would need to hold up under inspection. I haven't told Klaus or my family my plan to join the German military since my Pa is against me in the middle of a war that is quite obviously brewing and nobody else needs to worry about it until it happens and it's already too late to change. I told Annah though since she has been my source of comfort over the past few months and I needed someone to talk to about this. She let me know how against it she was by slapping me full in the face at school when I told her, but she had started crying right then and there, so I just held her in my arms as people stared, wondering what I had done to get a lady to slap me. After she had started crying, I just took her out of school for the rest of the day so that I could treat her to a few nice things before the day ended. We talked for a good long while about why I was so desperate to get into the army at such a young age, but she just kept asking question after question to get more out of me than I was letting her know. When she asked why I was going, I said "To serve my country." When she asked why I wanted to serve, I said "Because I feel as if I should." When she asked what compelled me to decide on something like this on such short notice, I told her, "I want to protect my country and its people. If fighting a war is what it takes, then I will gladly fight." What I was not expecting was the questions that left me to think hard long after we had parted ways for the day. She had asked me what it was that I was running away from. It had taken me a long while to come up with an answer that was truthful. I eventually said to her, "I'm running from the pain." We became quiet for a period of time as she thought and let the answer sink in slowly, processing what it meant. She had quietly asked me a question I had been dreading for a long time, nearly whispering the question as it passed her lips. "What pain?" I didn't even try to open my mouth as I lightly touched my chest where my heart rested, pounding hard and fast between my lungs. It seemed as if she understood enough, even if it was just a little bit and she didn't quite understand what kind of pain I meant, but she had dropped it. Annah had voiced her displeasure, but she had quietly set it aside for the time being so that she could silently worry instead. I could see the hurt and fear in her eyes when she realized that she couldn't talk me out of this, and I didn't fight the urge to brush her cheek with my thumb and lightly kiss away the tears that were falling onto her cheeks. It was just a simple show of the love I had for her, but it contained so much emotion behind it that I could feel her pain. I loved her, but it was in the way that the moon loved the earth. The way that the moon revolved around the earth, lovingly protecting it and watching over it while the earth revolved around the sun, knowing about the moon's love but loving another while the moon understood silently. I cared for Klaus the same as Annah, but in the way that the earth loved the sun, circling it and basking in the soft warmth of its light, but staying far away to keep itself from eventually getting burned, leaving so much space that the sun never knew that the earth existed. I love Annah and it hurts to see her cry, but I feel about Klaus the same way and it hurts just to see him. How could this feeling for him be love it it hurts so terribly bad? _

_ July 4, 1937 _

_ It was my birthday today. I enlisted in one of the military camps just outside of town. I'm going to be deployed in less than a month for training, so I guess I will have to start my goodbyes. I don't think that I'm planning on coming back. Alive, I mean. Annah had broken off the fake relationship sadly, but we both knew that it was something that needed to be done. I cut off the business after finishing the last few paintings I had to do, then I finally asked Annah if I could draw her. I had a full set up with canvas and paints, and for the first time since I met her, she let her hair down completely and stayed silent for hours as I took my time on every detail of the image in front of me. As always, I let her keep the painting for free. _

_ July 15, 1937 _

_ I told my Pa first because it would be the hardest to explain to him. I have never seen him cry before in my life, but I saw him shed a few tears, then quickly wipe them away so that he could wrap me up in his arms. I thought that he was going to yell at me or something, but he hadn't even brought up the fact that I was still technically too young and had lied about my age. He had helped me tell Ma and the girls. They had all begged me to stay and the twins started crying, but I just told them that it was something I needed to do for myself. _

_ July 23, 1937 _

_ I only have a week left until I'm shipped out. I still haven't told Klaus. I'm debating weather or not I should leave without telling him. He's going to be mad when he finds out since the war just officially started a few weeks ago and I was going to jump right into the middle of it. I just can't bring myself to watch those beautiful eyes usually so filled with light, break completely when I shatter his world into a million pieces. _

_ July 27, 1937 _

_ Two days left. I have to tell him. I can't leave without at least a goodbye. _

_ July 28, 1937 _

_ I took Klaus out today to do all of the things we used to do as kids. I took him to walk by the river as the sun came up so we could watch the colors dance on the water, then we talked and spent time together in the park. I bought him his favorite type of ice cream as we sat on an old park bench, eating the treats swiftly so they wouldn't melt. We took off our shoes and socks so that we could put our feet in the water while sitting on the fishing docs. As we sat there, I took out his favorite book in French and read the whole thing to him in a matter of mere hours. We laughed together when I mispronounced a word on accident while conversing with him in his first language and I tried my best to understand what the hell he was saying when we tried to switch to English, but it was still filled with comfortable banter. He had tried his best to learn another language for me, but it was just bad luck that he chose the worst, most difficult language on earth that had stolen words from other countries to string difficult sentences together that made almost so sense. I took him out for lunch at his favorite place to eat and we ended up sitting under a big tree to watch the clouds pass us by, not speaking at all, but feeling closer anyways. I threw a baseball to him a few times as we just lazily hung around the park, but the day was hot, so we went splashing around in the river again to cool ourselves off, but ended up getting soaked and we were forced to return home to change. I had told Klaus to dress a little nicer this time, and he didn't disappoint as he came out in his Sunday Best. I took him to a nice club in town and we danced, laughing the whole time as we missed steps, completely threw off our rhythm, and stepped on each other's toes about a hundred times. We met many people there that laughed with us when we told them that it was our first time dancing, and a lovely pair of ladies showed us how to do some type of swing dance to the beat of the music playing in the background. It was an eventful evening filled with laughter and joy, but at some point, the rush had to stop and I had to get the dirty secret out in the open. I took him back to the park by the river while the sun was setting and I borrowed a guitar from a musician there, gently playing a tune on the instrument under the tree we had sat under earlier. I gently sang to him in Italian, a little happy that he didn't know the language since the song I was playing was about two lovers separated by war, one telling the other to move on because he wouldn't be back to live the lives they deserved to have together. I liked the song because it never really specified the genders of the two lovers, but it might have been implied here or there that they were both men. And it was a beautiful tune. After returning the guitar to the musician, I watched as the light faded from the world and the stars came out, sitting in silence while Klaus leaned against my shoulder. Then, I told him about the military and how I was going to be leaving in the morning. He just took a deep breath and accepted it in silence. I could tell how much it hurt him though, because his breathing was shaky and his heart beat fast in his chest. That, and the fact that tears were in his eyes, threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. We sat in silence until he asked me what I would have done if he had been the one heading off into a war and I was the one left behind. I answered him without missing a beat. "I would be right behind you. I would follow you to the moon if that's where you went." We were very quiet for the rest of the night until we got back home and separated for the night. _

_ July 29, 1937 _

_ I woke up early in the morning, gathering all of the things that I would be taking with me to the training camp. I packed it all into the car and everyone piled in silently. We got to the pick up site and I took out my things, dropping them to the ground to say goodbye to my family. I had said my farewells to Annah earlier in the week so that she would not have to see my departure, but there were tears from both of the girls as they clung to me, not wanting me to go. I said my farewells to my parents and then, they went back to the car, leaving me alone with Klaus. He still had five months left until he turned seventeen, so it would be quite a while until we saw each other again, almost a year and a half if he didn't fake his information like I had. I was just left there to stare into those beautiful eyes that I couldn't explain, having to take the full force of the pain that came with the emotions swimming around in the magnificent depths. With a gentle squeeze to my shoulder, I heard him whisper to me quietly. "I will follow you to the moon." It was a promise, so I whispered it back to him, the emotions hitting me like a freight train. Before I could stop myself, I had him wrapped up in my arms and I clung to him like it was the last thing I would ever do. I had my hand clutching his hair and it was just as soft as I remembered from when I had last touched it when I was nine. I wanted to kiss him so bad. I wanted his lips on mine so that I would stay. If only he returned the feelings, then maybe I would be able to stand the guilt that came with looking him in the eye. I needed the taste of his mouth on mine without the bitter taste of alcohol and cigarette smoke covering his lips. I needed to feel the rough edges of the cracked lips on my own so that I could smooth them out with my tongue. I wanted to feel the inside of his mouth with my own and feel the moans coming from his throat in my own. There was so much I needed in that one moment, but I let go instead, releasing the death grip I had him in and pushing him away just a little bit so I wouldn't fall back in his arms. With one last look back, I said our promise once again and he repeated it back to me. "I will follow you to the moon." It feels strange at first, but I think that I have finally accepted just how much I have fallen in love with him. I love Klaus. Shit. I AM IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND!_

Steve set the journal down on the table, rubbing his eyes to keep himself from crying. The story may be different, but there was no doubt that it was just like his and Bucky's. Klaus and Grant even had the same type of promise that Bucky had first told him years and years ago, even though it felt like just yesterday when he had said those exact words to snap his friend out of Hydra control after being beaten half to death with a metal arm. The two were just so similar. Steve was torn, he could almost remember the things written in the journal as if he had been the one writing it instead of Grant, but he knew it was foolish because he wasn't Grant, he was his brother. His _ twin _ brother. They had been separated at birth for some reason, but the most likely scenario was that his Mom and Dad just simply couldn't afford to have a child. Much less two. Steve was happy to know that his brother had grown up well off and supported by a cushion of a scientist for a father, but he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous about all of the tools he had for his artistic freedom when Steve only had a few pencils and scraps of paper. It was a difficult thing to process, but he just leaned back in the chair to let it all wash over him slowly so he could let it sink in.

"Steven?" Steve heard his name and had a moment of pure terror wash through his body, knowing that he had been found out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck? Who knows? Take your guesses.


	6. Steve meets Astrid and then gets all depressing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love the Russian lesbian or surrender your kneecap privileges.
> 
> Do please remember that some chapters have very sad content. It is up to you to decide if I actually cried or not while writing about Steve and Tony's depressive episodes.

He looked towards the door to see half of the blonde woman peeking around the doorframe shyly. She startled a bit at Steve's reaction and then stepped out fully, obviously realizing how busy he had been and how she had surprised him. "Sorry Grant, it's just me. Astrid. I just wanted to know if I got the name right." She stepped into the room a bit, nearly tripping on the clunky work boots she wore. "I know that you don't like talking about it much since there is still a chance that he isn't your brother, but I just wanted to know if I got the name of the Captain America fellow correctly. I was talking about him with Natalia and Yvette earlier today since he interfered with our mission a bit and Natalia was still confused on the whole first name, middle name switch thing going on, so I came in to ask if his name was Steven." The blonde- Astrid- smiled a bit, looking a tad awkward and out of breath. "It's just a bit confusing for some of us still that you could possibly have a twin brother that is an American." Steve swallowed nervously past the lump in his throat and calmed himself down, letting the panic fall away.

Taking a deep breath, Steve looked back to the open journal, somehow knowing for a fact that the person who wrote it was his brother. "Yeah. His name is Steve. Pretty foolish, right?" He grinned up at Astrid, unable to bring up the walls that hid his emotion from the blonde. He could feel her eyes soften as she took in the pain that he had been too slow to hide effectively. 

Astrid walked towards Steve and placed a hand on his shoulder kindly. "Yeah. Steven is a foolish name. Who in their right mind would name a perfectly beautiful baby Steve? I mean, why not call him Stove while you are at it?"

Steve chuckled at Astrid's laughing tone and smiled genuinely at the blonde. "Thank you Astrid. I needed to get out of my head a bit." Steve softly marked his page and closed the journal, sliding to a corner of the desk. "Going through your whole life in a matter of hours sort of takes the fun out of reading. Especially when you read about all of the mistakes you never really apologized for properly, not to mention all of the pain and fear of things when they hit you like a ton of bricks."

Astrid nodded quietly, leaning her tiny body against Steve's back, chest resting on his head comfortably. She gently gestured to the journal. "None of us except for Klaus has ever seen that even though he talks about it a lot. Whenever something interesting happens, he always says that dumb line. 'Put that one in the book.' It's sort of like a legend, keeping all of your deepest darkest secrets inside. According to the stories Klaus tells, it includes everything that you don't write in the official mission reports and I am very curious to see what it is you keep from us." Steve hummed a little, wondering where she was going on the topic. "You know, I was wondering if you would let me see a few entries?"

Steve laughed, not expecting the trained spy to ask so outright. "Of course! You can read the first few pages if you want. I just wasn't quite expecting you to ask, maybe sneak into my room when I was asleep or read over my shoulder, but this is a nice surprise."

Astrid scoffed disapprovingly. "I would never. Natalia definitely would have, but I like to think that I have a little more class. Also, I'm not quite as adept as her when it comes to manipulation and seduction. But I guess that you wouldn't be too swayed by her tactics because she isn't really your… type."

Steve noted the audible pause and turned his head a bit to look up at the blonde that was still leaning on him. "What's that supposed to mean? So what if tall French ladies aren't my  type , I could like shorter women. Or brunettes. Or maybe girls that have more of a soft disposition. I could be attracted to you for all you know."

Astrid smiled softly. "Grant, you do not like me and I know it. Don't even try to hide that fact. Now, I need to make Natalia and Yvette jealous." Steve tensed at the name, but he couldn't tell if the blonde noticed. "Book. Now. Gimme gimme. Pretty please?" He hesitantly gave Astrid the journal and she immediately dove head first into the first page, reading the messy German scribbles with practiced ease. She read swiftly, mouthing along with the words and following sentences with her fingers as she flipped through the first two pages. Steve snapped the journal shut just as she was about to flip another page and pulled it away, already regretting it as she gained a shit eating smirk on her face. "That was sickeningly sweet Grant. I can't believe you of all people wrote it. And here I thought your only expression was mildly passable stone." Then, her grin became softer. "But now I understand why you call Klaus your 'happy thing' all the time. It's honestly very touching how your Ma told you about him before the two of you met. Beautiful even." She sighed and slouched against his shoulders. "I'm tired. I need some sleep, then I'm going to go and brag about seeing the journal to Natalia. Maybe piss her off a little bit."

"Language." Steve couldn't help it. The word just slipped out of his mouth because of the habit he had gained. The Avengers had all made fun of him for saying it, but the snowy terrain that mission had been on reminded him of the last time he had seen Bucky. All of the thoughts had come flooding back, and he couldn't help but to let slip the reprimand that Bucky had always given him whenever he swore too much back in Brooklyn. It hurt a bit to hear himself say that and it hurt even worse to hear the complaints and mocking comments from his team, but he had quietly kep it to himself, reminding everyone of the mission.

Astrid groaned overdramatically and flopped herself over one of Steve's shoulders. "Seriously Grant? You swear more than I do and you're only twenty two. I'm older than you. By almost five years. If it wasn't for the Red Room then I would have been married and had a family by now." She sighed and poked Steve's beard. "I like a man with a little bit of beard, but I honestly can't stand how you keep that thing like a wild rat's nest. I'm trimming it before you fall asleep so it doesn't look like a racoon made babies with another racoon on your face." 

Steve flinched at the disturbing thought, but brushed it away quickly so he could scratch his itchy beard. "Alright I guess. We could make it a whole entire event if you want me to do your hair." Steve had done his Mom's hair many times as well as Bucky's kid sisters, so it shouldn't be too hard to do.

Astrid nodded and moved over to the bed by the wall, almost sliding off of Steve's shoulder and onto the ground. Picking up the spiky ball of glass that Steve hadn't realized was there, she walked to the middle of the room and stood on her tiptoes while trying to hand it on the light that rested on the ceiling. He rolled his eyes a little at her efforts despite being too short for the job, so he walked over and grabbed her waist, easily lifting her to the height she needed to hang the colorful piece of art. Steve quickly put her down when she started wiggling her toes that were a few feet in the air and she promptly tackled him to the bed, curling up under his arm.

"Hey Grant?" Steve looked down at the small woman curled against his side. "Thanks for trusting me enough to show me your journal. Your thoughts as a kid were really sweet and innocent, especially when it came to your Ma."

Steve chuckled a little. "Well, you can't blame me. Apparently I loved her very much." The two laughed a bit at the way that kid Grant left all of his entries in the first few years. 

It was a nice moment until the door opened and Klaus cane in. Steve's walls came up immediately without him wanting them to when the brunette froze it the doorway. He looked back and forth between the two blondes laying together in the bed and his face went red. "Oh. Um, I'm sorry for… barging in on… you two." He held up a plate in his hand piled high with food. "I just… uh, wanted Grant to eat before resting." He stammered through the excuse, then placed the plate in the floor.

"Wait! Klaus!" Astrid jumped up off of the bed to stop him before he left. "It's not like that! We weren't doing anything, I promise. We were just hanging out like friends do." She smiled almost desperately as Klaus looked over her head at the blonde that was still on the bed, watching the whole ordeal. "Listen, why don't you go grab Natalia and Yvette and bring them back here. Then we could all spend time together and have a bit of fun for a change."

Silently eyeing Steve, Klaus nodded once and then left to go find the two women, leaving the plate of food at the door.

Astrid sighed and picked up the plate. "Well that went down like a lead balloon."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "A what?" He sat up on the bed to make room for the small blonde.

Astrid sat down and handed the plate over as she got comfortable. "A lead balloon. Get it? Because lead balloons don't float and it means that they don't actually work. Lead is really heavy so the balloon would just drop?" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Nobody understands my genius mind! Whatever should I do?"

Steve took a small bite of a sandwich from the plate and rolled his eyes. "I understood perfectly what you meant. It was just a horrible joke."

Astrid pouted a bit and aimed a small hand towards a pastry on the plate, but stopped when a loud sound groaned through the room. Steve's face went beet red when he realized that it was his stomach growling, and Astrid just laughed like a maniac. "Look at that! The moment you put food into your belly after so many days without it, your stomach decides to realize that you need sustenance!" She giggled uncontrollably as Steve just turned away, embarrassed, and took a large bite of his sandwich to avoid talking about it. 

Realizing that he was in fact, half starved at that point, Steve started scarfing down the food given to him, nearly choking at one point when he put too much in his mouth. He finished off the plate in less than a minute as Astrid froze in astonishment next to him, not realizing how hungry he actually was. Putting down the plate on the desk at the end of the bed, Steve cleared his throat, embarrassed about having a witness to his meal. "I haven't eaten in about a week." It was the truth, even considering the fact that he was from the future. Steve hadn't slept since waking up in the hospital, but he had been too busy to properly eat. He had usually just rushed into the building sometime in the morning to grab coffee and spent a few moments there with the team during breakfast to give the illusion of a proper sleeping schedule before running off again. He popped into the building once or twice a day to check the scans he had JARVIS set up for him, usually grabbing another coffee to keep himself awake or an apple to stop his stomach from growling, but soon he was warned by the AI to get some rest and eat a proper meal. Steve had been warned that the AI was equipped with a two week sleep check for Tony when he was down in the labs, making sure that he got more than twenty eight hours of sleep per every two weeks, and would immediately call Ms. Potts, asking permission to sedate him if he ever passed the limit of awake time. JARVIS had threatened to use an elephant tranquilizer on the super soldier if he didn't sleep and call Natasha if he refused to eat a properly cooked meal, so Steve had made himself a grilled cheese and went to sleep for as long as he could before the nightmares woke him up. A whole week had passed before Tony decided to fuck with unknown tech, but Steve had been much to busy working outside of the tower for JARVIS to "advise" him to fall back into a proper sleep schedule. The lack of proper food hadn't hit him too hard until this very moment when he realizes that he was still extremely hungry, but he let it go because he was used to the knawing of his stomach. He could never eat enough to actually fill himself due to the serum messing with the digestion and metabolism speeds, and he had never tried. Now, with Astrid staring at him like he was a skinny child from Africa, he felt just a little bit guilty for worrying her with his fast he had eaten.

Astrid gaped at him for a few seconds and then shook her head. "That must feel horrible. I couldn't ever go that long with no food." Shoving her way under the blanket that they were both sitting on, she curled up a bit to get warmer as she shivered once.

Both blondes looked up as three people bustled through the door, two of them jumping onto the bed enthusiastically, one hanging back by the doorframe. "Grant! We have come to forcibly make you sleep!" Natalia shouted everything she said with a thick Russian accent, then stood up on the bed and jumped up and down, obviously having drunk or taken something to make her act this strange. "We have consumed the  кофе to make sure that you fall asleep before us all!"

Yvette got up and started jumping as well, shouting a mix of French and German words. "Down with the Golden Bird! No escape! No mercy! Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!" Then, she spouted a bunch of English shoved together in an unknown sentence that Steve tried hard not to laugh at because it just sounded like a string of filthy words that needed to not be said.

Klaus understood enough English to laugh though and he grinned, pulling on the arms if both women to get them to sit down. He smiled at Steve with pitying eyes and shrugged. "I'm sorry Grant. They had never tried coffee before and when I recommend it, they drank the whole pot. I couldn't stop them."

Suddenly, he was pulled up into the bed by Astrid who had also joined in with the jumping and she began shouting as well. "Jump with us! Jump with us! Jump with us! Freedom! Become the Freedom! Do you feel the energy Klaus?! Channel your inner caffeine!"

Half an hour later and all four of them were sitting dejectedly on the floor with their knees to their chins as Steve watched two soldiers carry the broken bed out of the room. He apologized for the inconvenience and sighed around ten times per minute as the trading out of the beds was finished. Turning back to the people sitting on his rug, he sighed and quietly mumbled "no jumping" as he flopped onto the new bed, groaning loudly into the pillow.

All four of them climbed into bed around Steve, but somehow there was complaining about who wanted to lay next to who and where to put elbows, so they didn't actually lay down for a few minutes. Yvette and Natalia ended up cuddling on his left and Astrid clung to his right side, not giving anyone room to move, so somehow Klaus ended up laying on Steve's chest. He was sure that the three women had specifically planned it that way and he groaned internally. They were all pinning him down onto the bed so that he could hardly move and Klaus laying on his chest did nothing to help.

"Grant?" Steve looked down to where Astrid was tucked up against his torso and made a humming noise in his throat to let her know that he heard. "Can you sing? A lullaby or song? Anything really?"

Yvette snorted and looked over Klaus's back at the small blonde. "You know that he does not know any songs right?" She turned to look up into Steve's eyes and then put her head back down. "Unless he does. I haven't heard him ever sing since we met though."

Steve thought for a little bit, only remembering two songs off of the top of his head. "Do you want the song about September or the murder lullaby?" Klaus and Astrid answered with the September song right away, but Natalia and Yvette practically shouted with the force that they demanded the murder lullaby. Steve just laughed and eventually agreed to sing both. 

Humming softly, Steve let the memories wash over him as he started singing quietly. It was a song that Bucky' s mom had taught him. She had always sung it to Bucky when he was a baby, so Steve had asked to learn the Russian song so that he could sing it to his best friend whenever he wanted. It became a normal occurrence that Steve would sing to Bucky whenever the boy spent the night, became upset, had nightmares, or just whenever he needed Steve to sing it for him. He didn't understand what a lot of the words meant, but over the years, Steve had learned just a little bit of Russian to converse with Bucky and his family in their native language. Steve had still sung it to his best friend long after they became more than that when Steve was fifteen and he had sung it to Bucky when the brunette had gone to war and when he had found the same brunette strapped to a table in Zola's lab. Steve had sung it every night while stroking Bucky's hair so nightmares didn't plague his mind and he had taught the same song to Peggy so that she had something to help her with the stress of dealing with Howard's explosive projects all the time. Steve sang it to himself as he sobbed in his tent for days after Bucky fell from the train and Peggy sang it to him gently when she found him trying to get drunk in a broken down pub. He murmured the song to himself before every mission to remind him exactly who he fought for, and he sang the same song to himself under his breath as the Valkyrie had taken flight with Johann Schmidt aboard. Steve had sang the song to himself as he fought the Red Skull and took over the plane, and he had been singing the same song as he crashed into the ice, knowing that he would finally be reunited with his best friend and love of his life. Except he hadn't been. Steve had been frozen in ice for almost seventy years, forced to face the horrible onslaught of his own brain as it tore into him with constant nightmares. But he had kept singing that damn song every night as he cried himself to sleep or had to fight the urge to just let go of life in a desperate attempt to find the people he knew and loved. He recited the song before the first mission with the Avengers that he had ever gone on, but that had been the last time he ever sang it around anyone because the look on Tony's face was one of complete horror. Apparently it wasn't customary to sing to yourself because people would think you needed mental help. Now, when the only people around him were half asleep or high out of their minds with caffeine, Steve let his guard down just enough to relax into the song. 

After finishing the Russian song, Steve jumped right into the song about September. Astrid was the only one still awake and she looked into his eyes, tears pooling slowly as he sang. Steve remembered the first time he ever heard the song after a particularly bad mission. He had just flopped into his bed, not bothering to change or clean up his injuries as he struggled not to let the sobs escape his throat. After a while, he had to check up on the team, so he just shoved his emotions down into the pit of his stomach and got up to change his clothes so that all of the bruises and dried blood would be hidden until he could clean up properly. He had visited Natasha first, successfully faking his way through laughs and smiles since the spy had been too busy shutting herself off to pick his walls apart, and he had convinced her to help him bake. Steve had found out near the beginning of his time in the Tower that Natasha used baking to calm herself down, no matter how horrible she was at it. He helped her with the oven so that she could do most of it herself without feeling even more stressed out, and after they had put the cupcakes in and she was cheered up, Steve moved her into the sitting area and onto one of the couches so that she could rest while watching television. Steve knew that the sound of a new show would draw Clint out of the vents, so he stood underneath the vent in the kitchen so that the archer would have to drop down next to him to get anywhere near Natasha. After a minute or two, Clint dropped down and just stood there by the super soldier. Steve respected Clint's boundaries most if the time, but whenever the archer looked as if he had been crying, Steve took it upon himself to initiate a little bit of human contact in the form of a small side hug. To his surprise, Clint threw himself into the embrace, sobbing softly as he remembered the people he had failed in saving earlier. Steve just held the man in his arms until he felt the archer pull away and wipe his tears to go and sit next to Natasha on the couch. The smell of the cupcakes drew in Thor next, the blonde almost running into the kitchen in an attempt to gain affection from Steve. He had wrapped himself completely around the soldier, letting out a loud whine with the inability to express his emotions in any other way. They stayed glued together for a few minutes until the timer on the oven beeped and Thor started smiling again, effectively having been plugged into his emotional recharge for long enough. He went over to the other two Avengers, loudly entering the room to plop himself down onto the couch with them. Steve had taken out the cupcakes, putting them into the counter to cool, then put popcorn into the microwave for the three people watching television. Bruce came slinking into the kitchen next as Steve was just finishing up the construction of homemade frosting, and the small man helped Steve ice the cupcakes slowly. It was a simple process, starting on the outside and slowly moving into the middle, but it was a calming simplicity to repeat a few dozen times. Steve watched as the scientist became more steady and relaxed in the calming atmosphere until the cupcakes were done being frosted and Bruce was allowed to take the rest of the frosting into the sitting area. It was an unspoken rule that the last person to help Steve with his kitchen escapades got to eat whatever was left, weather it was the last few noodles stuck to the spoon from a baked macaroni dish or the last few scoops of icing left in the bowl after covering a cake. It was almost always Bruce or Natasha that got the treat, but Clint always bargained his way into getting some and everyone shared with Thor anyways. Never Tony though because Tony's emotions were a different problem that couldn't be sedated by some frosting and soothing words. Steve walked into Tony's workshop, setting down a cupcake on the table and approaching the genius cautiously. Slowly prying the brunette from his work, Steve listened to a few sentences that he didn't really understand because all of the large words related to "polythermal carbon fiber mainframe", but Steve listened closely anyways because he cared for the man. Soon, the small talk dissolved into loud shouting as Tony broke down into sobs while screaming at Steve that he should have done better. The words hurt and many of them hit pretty hard, but Steve took them all in stride because none of them were as bad as the things he blamed himself for every single day of his life. After an hour or so of shouting, Tony dissolved into a sobbing mess and Steve lead him gently to the couch that the brunette kept in his workshop and slowly calmed the man down. It always took Steve a lot of time and patience to relive Tony of the stress missions put him under, but it did seem to be working in the long run because of the lack of alcohol bottles cluttering the work benches. Steve asked JARVIS to play some music, and suddenly, Tony was clutching to his shirt and sobbing as a song poured through the speakers from various places around the room. " Try to remember the kind of September when life was slow and oh, so mellow." It was the last song Tony's mother had ever sang to her son. Steve had just held onto the sobbing man in his arms and controlled his shaking hands to clutch the man's shirt right in his fists. It had reminded him painfully strong of the soldiers during the war that had just gotten back from their first full blown fire fight, still shell shocked and terrified, but they were still asked to remember the horrifying experience just for a simple field report. Steve had tried his best to make his way through all of those men, asking them to remember things about the homes they could go back to so that their minds were taken off of the bloody scene they just came out of. He remembered a pair of kids during the war that had just gotten out of basic training and were thrown to the front lines, but he had taken special care with them so that they knew that they were safe. Steve memorized the song after parting that night from the workshop so that he could sing it to Tony the same way that he had sung the Russian song to Bucky every time that the brunette had been stressed. Suddenly, helping Tony with his emotions became something easier than normal. Whenever the genius was stressed or he stretched himself too thin, Steve was there, humming the song that Tony's mother left behind in the hopes that he could help the brunette through whatever he was tense about. It almost always worked unless Tony had been slipping into a depressive episode due to blaming himself for his mother's death, then the only thing that Steve could do was hold the small man as he cried. There was only one time where Steve actually had to spend the night with Tony when he had a particularly bad episode that almost ended in alcohol and a gun until Steve had walked in and pinned the brunette to the ground, quickly trapping his arms to his sides in a hug for a few hours. It had been a troubling thought that Tony had been spiraling so bad that he attempted to kill himself, but after that, Steve checked the arms and legs of the brunette every morning to make sure that there were no new scars. Too bad nobody ever thought to check Steve's legs once or twice after every mission. 

Steve let himself drift out of the memories slowly after the song ended, shuddering at the thought of blood covering his thighs every night after he had found out that Bucky was alive. At least he was still alive though. As long as he could push back the thoughts to take care of his team, he didn't mind the blood and the numbness that invaded his mind every few days. Steve softly stroked the light hair under his fingers, pulling himself out of his mind so he didn't feel the spiraling tugging at him. Inhaling deeply, he looked around slowly, too exhausted to do much else except brush his fingers over Klaus's hair softly. Astrid had fallen asleep a little bit ago and the room was quiet, almost dark as Steve noticed a small window to the right of the closet that let in the last of the setting sun. Slowly drifting off despite his best efforts, Steve became very aware of a troubling thought. He always lost the people he loved. His dad, his mom, then Bucky, Peggy, the Howlies, and now he had lost Tony, Bucky again, Nat, Clint, Bruce, and Thor. Steve lost everyone eventually and it was probably going to happen to this team as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who will win the battle of the minds? The fucking dumbass of a gay couple, Grant and Klaus, or the unnecessarily forced heteronormative couple, Grant and Astrid? Who the fuck knows? Only I do!
> 
> (Also it might be a little weird once Steve finds out who Astrid actually is.)


	7. Grant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another warning to all of you lovely folks, this is a slightly depressing chapter. There are nightmares, a lit of nightmares, and Bucky. This is sort of a filler chapter, but you do need to read it because it will explain for future chapters why Steve has a filthy minded sass machine talking in his brain. Weird. I know.

Steve was drowning. He couldn't breathe because of a cold, hard pressure on his chest that prevented him from inhaling. He couldn't see anything that caused the pressure, but he did see people around him, dying. He watched as his friends were shot down by Hydra, filling the Howlies with bullets while dragging a bleeding Peggy away by her hair to torture for information. Soldiers everywhere were screaming out in pain as limbs were blown away by explosives or begging to be put out of their misery as they laid of the ground dying from blood loss. Steve saw the Avengers fighting Red Skull as aliens tore apart men from the US army. One by one, his team was killed, being ripped to shreds in front of his eyes as he did his best to scream their names past the weight crushing his ribs. He was too small, too weak to do anything, so he just fell to the dirt as Tony's head rolled to a stop in front of him, blood and tears splattered onto pale skin as dull eyes tore into Steve's shattering soul. It was horrible. Wherever he looked, he could see the burnt remains of a leg still clinging to a broken body, half of an arm poking out from rubble covered in red blood, or even just someone he knew filled with bullets as blood leaked from the raw holes in their face. Then, the atmosphere changed and he was on a train. Steve was on his knees, silent tears dripping down his face as he struggled to breathe, wind whipping through his hair as a giant gaping hole in the train car rested to his left. He stared at Bucky as his friend stood in front of him. The brunette's hair was long and tangled, soaked with the blood that dripped down the side of his face. His left arm was a mess of messed up flesh and bits of metal, but his shoulder was silver and had a star drawn onto it with dripping blood. Everything on his body was bruised or broken, torn into a bloody mess that Steve had caused in some way. When Steve looked at Bucky's face, he saw familiar freckles on the pale cheeks and hazel eyes clouded over and storming with rage. Steve could see the blues, greens, and browns of Klaus's eyes swimming with fury and pain, all of it trained directly on Steve. The face in front of him shifted between the two as their voices were combined into one. " _ You did this to us! You left us to die all by ourselves when you could have saved us from Hydra! You were too weak! Too Weak! TOO WEAK! _ " The voices stopped and the person in front of him shifted again. Steve looked up at the brother that he never knew about, the blue eyes terrifyingly cold and merciless compared to Steve's warm eyes, despite them being the same exact color.  _ "Failure. You disgust me. What kind of soldier are you? You have failed your first team, leaving them all alone, and now you have failed your second, leaving them as well. Will you also leave my team? Will you leave them after taking my body and my place? Will you leave them to die like the others?" _ Steve sobbed as the grip on his lungs loosened and the wind ripped his voice away, the tears freezing onto his thin face as the suit that once for him became baggy and large on his tiny, weak frame. The faces all mixed back together, shifting in and out between people. Peggy whispered  _ Traitor _ as Natasha growled out a simple  _ Worthless _ . Dum Dum barked out  _ Failure _ , Astrid screamed  _ Weak _ , and Tony forced out a sob with the word that hit the hardest.  _ Liar _ . Steve was curled into himself, unable to rip his eyes away as the bodies and voices shifted in and out until it landed back on the mix of Bucky and Klaus.  _ "You mean nothing to us. You are nothing." _ The mix of the two walked over to the hole in the train car, standing on the edge facing Steve.  _ "All of this is your doing." _ Then the two of them fell backwards off of the train into the freezing air below. Steve lunged desperately, screaming when he saw the fear flicker in Klaus's eyes as the two of them fell, screaming out in Bucky's voice. "STEVIE!" Steve screamed wordlessly as the train flew away from the area where the two fell and the area around him became dark. Steve felt his clothes fit him again and looked up above him as he floated in the water, watching the last bits of light dance across his body while the plane sank. He felt strong arms come up from behind him, covered in black fabric that looked exactly like his Uniform, except the accents were red. Looking to his left, Steve saw his own face looking at him with a horrible grin stretching the skin around the pointed teeth unnaturally. On the chest of the uniform where there should have been a star, sat a red Hydra emblem dripping blood. He looked at himself calmly, knowing in some way that this was Grant, or at least the image that had been built of Grant in his mind from the files that he had read about the assassin. Steve watched slowly as Grant brought his hand upwards, holding a gun that he placed into Steve's hand. Without thinking, Steve did what the assassin slowly pushed him to do, the blood red eyes and fucked up grin burning themselves into his mind. The gun was slowly pushed up under his chin, and without any prompting, Steve put his finger on the trigger, ready to pull. 

Just as the bang rang out, everything went black and Steve felt firm arms holding him from behind. He just sat there, the gun nowhere to be found as he sat in what seemed to be an inch of black water. Everything was black, but Steve could see the arms embracing him clearly and he could see the ripples in the water as he moved to look at the person behind him. When he turned, he saw himself, but it wasn't actually himself. It was the Hydra assassin, but he looked different. The uniform was the same, but the blood was gone and so was the warped grin and red eyes. Steve looked at the man that looked like him, looking at the tears pooling in his soft blue eyes and the close cut beard in the same color blonde of his hair. Steve felt the realization dawn on him slowly as he looked at the man and returned the embrace, burying his face in the crook of a black clad neck. "Hello Grant." Steve's voice was soft and he didn't trust himself to talk any louder in fear for ruining the moment.

"Hello Steven." Grant's voice was the same whisper at Steve's was, barely audible even in the silent blackness. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I couldn't get to you sooner."

Steve looked up, smiling sadly and untangling his arms from around his brother. "It's alright. You did your best and got to me right in time."

Grant nodded. "I guess I did." Silence fell between the two of them, neither knowing what to say until Grant spoke up again. "You did a good job while I was gone. Even if it was just for a day or two. You acted disturbingly like me in every situation that was thrown at you, especially when you got jealous of Yvette because of what Klaus said." He chuckled a bit, leaning back. Then he fell silent to stare into the blackness, his voice cracking a bit with unshed tears. "I guess we really read that situation wrong. Huh? I always had a feeling that he would be… like me, but I guess all of those girls he slept with should have been a sign."

Steve touched his brother's hand. "You couldn't have known. All of the signs were there and even I thought that he liked you and I was in your body. It made sense to me because I went through a lot of similar things and everything was lining up, but I guess he will always like who he likes. I guess not everything can play out like it did between Bucky and I."

Grant smiled sadly and let out a huff. "I guess it can't." He paused for a bit, thinking about something. "The man in your nightmares, the one mixed all up in Klaus, was he Bucky?"

Steve chuckled. "Yup. That was him. He was my best friend for years until I lost him."

"Well, you're really lucky." Grant bit his lip in a thoughtful manner, then he smirked playfully. "I can't believe my twin brother was lucky enough to nab the hottest man in all of Brooklyn. Too bad it would be really weird if you ever dated the hottest man on Earth."

Steve snickered with the same mischievous glint in his eyes. "Why? Because I would be dating the guy you were crushing on like crazy?"

Grant scoffed. "Of course not! You would be dating me you meatball!"

Steve burst out laughing, grabbing his stomach and rolling on the floor in hysteria. "Oh! That was good! That was really good!" He gasped for breath as Grant sat up a little straighter with pride. "I can't belive you!"

Grant just laughed lightly and smiled. "Thanks. I guess I have the humor out of the two of us when you are actually the one with the looks. I'm too messed up for that." Grant shrugged. "Not in a bad way or anything, I'm still pretty good looking, but it's the people with the good hearts that look the best on the outside." He flopped backwards into the shallow water, quickly followed by Steve, looking into his brother's eyes. "No matter what someone looks like on the outside, their heart always shines through the brightest." Grant smiled at Steve softly. "Despite your hurt mind, you have a perfectly good heart and that's what the difference between the two of us is." Steve watched as the tears fell from Grant's eyes while the man kept smiling, not noticing the wet droplets on his face. It was a difference that Steve recognized on the faces of broken soldiers and the civilians that couldn't quite grasp that all of their loved ones were dead after a particularly bad attack from robots or aliens in New York. Steve listened to the dripping sound that the tears made while connecting to the water below as they fell from his brother's eyes. "I have a hurt mind too, but I can't really say that I have a good heart to make up for that. Too many mistakes I haven't apologized for. I will though. Someday. And then I will be able to say that I have the ability to regain a good heart."

Steve smiled and wiped the tears away from the blue eyes in front of him. "I'm happy for you. I know that you can get your good heart back. All you need is a little patching up from your happy thing."

Grant tried to laugh a bit, but it came out sad. "I can't believe you would bring that up! Just because Klaus is my happy thing doesn't mean you get to call him that. I don't even know why I still call him that."

"Maybe because he is?" Steve shoved Grant lightly, teasing him. "It was something that your mother told you and you cherished for the rest of your life. I'm pretty sure that that would be a good excuse."

Grant nodded, wiping the tears from his cheeks and giving Steve a smile that didn't look too broken anymore. "I think she would be proud that I found you." Sitting up, Grant looked down at his brother as water cascaded off of his back, leaving him dry. "I think you should go now. You might start freaking people out."

Steve shot up out of the water, grabbing his brother's arms. "No! I can't leave! I just found out that you existed, how can I let you go now that I've found you?"

Grant grinned. "I'm too much of a stubborn ass to even think about leaving. You're stuck with me now Steven." He stood up, offering his hand for Steve to take. Steve grabbed Grant's hand, confused as he stood up. "You better get used to me quick cause' I'm going to be stuck in your head for a good, long while." 

Grant shoved Steve in the chest hard and he fell backwards into the water that swallowed him in inky blackness. Steve watched as he sank and the form of his brother became dimmer and a dull light invaded his line of sight. Quickly, Steve tried blinking it away, but groaned when it wouldn't leave him alone. He sat up, rubbing his head to clear the forming headache, but it only worsened when he heard the yelling. Opening his eyes, Steve looked around to see the doctor from the camp sitting on the edge of his bed and everyone else standing around him in a semicircle. He groaned. "How long was I asleep for you to have called a doctor?" Everyone fell silent and Steve looked at the window. It was dark, light night had just fallen. "Seriously though, how long was I asleep? What happened?"

Everyone silently looked towards Klaus expectantly. He cleared his throat nervously as he rubbed his eyes that were all red and puffy. "I woke up when you started to cough because I thought I was hurting you, but when I got up, you stopped breathing. It was like you were underwater or something. So I woke everyone up and called the doctor." The brunette started sobbing softly between words. "When you started breathing again, you started screaming and… and… we couldn't wake you up. I th- thought something was wrong and I st- started to panic." He brushed away more tears as he started hiccuping and Yvette hugged him. Nobody noticed Steve flinch except for the doctor who gave him an exasperated look.

Steve just looked down at his lap in silence for a while, not knowing what to do about Klaus who was still crying. "Sorry about that. It was just a one time thing." Steve rubbed his arm and lowered his voice to a small whisper. "I just don't like being held down." Hearing that, Klaus started to sob harder into Yvette's shoulder and Steve bit his lip in regret. He didn't know what was going on or how he could stop it. Sure, he usually comforted his team after a bad mission, but he had never caused anyone to cry because they were worried about him before. Eventually, the doctor left in the reassurance that it was just a bad dream caused by lack of sleep, and everyone calmed down again, sitting on the bed.

"Why did you not tell us that you have nightmares Grant?" Natalia lightly touched his arm and he pulled away a bit, not feeling like having human contact right now.

Steve shook his head. "I don't. Or at least, not usually. I must have been hit a lot harder than I remember." Steve rubbed the two bullet wounds on the left side of his chest as they started itching a bit right under his peck.

Yvette grabbed his hand to stop him. "What do you mean you were hit? Hit with what?" She pointed to where Steve had scratched on his chest. "You were hit here?"

Steve shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal when in truth, it had nothing to do with getting shot. "Just a couple bullet wounds, nothing to worry about."

Astrid screeched as she pulled Steve's shirt off, trying to look at the wounds. "Bloody Hell Grant! What is wrong with you? Why didn't you say anything? This isn't like you."

Natalia scoffed, poking at the three scars as Steve hissed in pain every time they were touched. "Actually Astrid, this is like him. He is just a fool for trying to hide it from us."

Yvette sighed and looked at Steve with disappointment clear in her eyes. "Just because you drank magic juice to make you heal really fast does not mean you are immortal. You can't hide your injuries from assassins you Twit."

Klaus interrupted with a "He was stabbed." just as Steve said "I was stabbed." They looked at each other softly, smiling with laughter in their eyes. They both knew what happened and the look on the faces of the three women was priceless.

"HE WAS WHAT?!" All three women practically screamed, having no idea what the two of them were talking about.

Klaus nodded solemnly, trying not to giggle as he crossed his arms and leaned his back onto the wall by the bed. "Yes. Our little Grant here became part of the living dead when he was only thirteen years old because he was stabbed by an evil scientist." Klaus tried to stop the smile threatening to leak out. "Right through the heart."

Steve smirked, joining in on the fun. "Klaus here is undead as well, but I was the evil scientist that brought him back to life."

Klaus scoffed, pointing a finger dramatically at the blonde in front of him. "You did no such thing! All you did was shake me like a rag doll and cry! You followed me around like a puppy for weeks!"

Steve huffed in exasperation, equally dramatic and joking as he crossed his arms. "Excuse me for caring! At least I didn't look dead unlike you."

"I was sick! I have a good excuse!"

"Surrre you do. I was shot! In the chest! And then I got stabbed! Take that!"

"Well you looked like a stick of wood before hand! And afterwards you were a blubbering mess, high off of the painkillers they gave you!"

"Me? I was high? I was completely sober compared to you! Do you even remember spewing all over yourself last time you got high?"

"Hey, to be fair, I was also incredibly drunk! You can't blame the vomit on being high."

"I can blame the vomit on you though. I don't even know how many times you hurled on me before you got sober again. Don't even get me started on taking care of you whenever you started coming down again. You were a child!"

"I was a child?! Grant you looked six years old when you were twelve! A stiff breeze would have snapped you in half!"

"At least I acted my age!"

"At least I looked my age!"

"I had a job!"

"I had a girlfriend!"

"I had my first kiss when I was eight!"

"You did?" Klaus stopped joking immediately, cutting off the playful banter between the two of them in favor of staring at Steve with a confused and hurt expression. "I thought you had your first kiss back when Pops- when you were thirteen. Why didn't you tell me? Who was it? When? Was I there?"

Steve shook his head softly, looking over to the three baffled women. "Not right now Klaus. We can talk about this later without the audience." The brunette looked over at the women and nodded quietly. 

Silence fell in the room until Steve moved to lay down and pull the blanket over his shoulders. Slowly, the team moved as well, pressing Steve against the wall so that all of them could fit onto the bed without piling into each other. Klaus was pushed up against his chest again by Astrid who shoved her way into the middle. Natalia, Astrid, and Yvette ended up spooning to make more room, Astrid being the smallest and Natalia taking the outside. It was interesting to say the least when they tried to share the small blanket, but Steve was too hot, so he just let the others use it. When everyone was asleep, he felt himself relax a bit, scared of going back to sleep. Sure, Grant had said he would be there, but what if it had actually just been a dream and if Steve fell asleep he would just have the nightmares again. Taking a calculated risk, he closed his eyes and relaxed his body, letting his mind wander. He felt himself sinking into the blackness and closing his eyes tightly, Steve braced for the terrors to come. When they didn't, Steve opened his eyes to see the apartment he had back in Brooklyn that he shared with Bucky. Sitting up in the bed, he pulled back the covers and walked out of the room to see Grant in his Hydra uniform sitting on the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. "Hey." Grant looked up and smiled at his brother's voice. "Get your ass off the table. That's where people eat."

Grant laughed. "You're asleep, you don't eat. Besides, you can't tell me what to do. I am the superior homosexual."

"Gay." Steve interrupted his brother who had a confused look on his face. "You're gay. It's easier to say than homosexual. Besides, I'm not a homosexual." Grant became even more confused. "I like girls too, I've just never dated one or been kissed by anyone other than Bucky."

Grant pondered this for a second. "Americans must be very clever. You got this knowledge from America, no?"

Steve shook his head. "Nope. Got this information from the future. It was 2014 where I came from when I got sent here."

Grant nodded. "Ah, yes. I think I remember a stray thought about that a little while ago."

Then it was Steve's turn to be confused. "You can hear my thoughts?"

Grant rolled his eyes. "Steven, we are stuck in the same head. We hear, smell, see, and think everything together. To be honest though, you are the one in control. I can't really do anything from the back seat of the vehicle except get you to listen to my voice."

Steve bit his lip as he sat on the table with Grant. "Can't you just take the wheel again? It's your brain, why not kick me out?"

Grant looked horrified. "Steven! Do you want to die? You can't push someone out of a moving vehicle! Our heart would have to stop for me to push you out without damaging you, and even then I don't know if it would send you back to your own time."

"We could try?" Steve almost pleaded.

"No. It is too dangerous Steven. It would have to be a last resort if we don't find a way back." Grant scolded him like a child and Steve just rolled his eyes. "Until then, we share a brain, so please keep the dirty thoughts about your lover to a minimum and stop staring lustfully at Klaus because his eyes are beautiful." Steve turned a dark shade or red in embarrassment at being caught. Grant chuckled. "You know, you are going to have to stop blushing like an innocent every time you hear something sexual if you want to keep up appearances. I make the dirtiest jokes in the whole German military."

Steve sighed. "I basically am 'innocent' as you call it. I haven't been in a bed with anyone other than Bucky and that sure as hell can't count since we never were together officially. We were both men and it's not like we could get a marriage certificate approved. We would have been beaten to death by the neighbors."

Grant snickered. "Awww. You think that's what it means to be an innocent? Being made into an honest man by your partner? No. I meant how many times you did the do. How many times you got dirty with your man." Steve's cheeks flared up again, finally realizing what Grant meant. "So come on, you have to get used to talking about this sort of stuff. You have to make jokes without blushing like a teenager. How many times? From what I gather about you, I'm guessing that it wasn't that many."

Steve barked out a laugh, thoughts racing through his mind about exactly how wrong Grant was. Then, Steve remembered that Grant could see everything and he stopped, looking up at his brother. The poor guy was blushing like mad, trying to shut away the images that had just flown through his brain. "Are you alright?" Steve reached out for Grant's shoulder after the man had curled himself into a ball.

Looking up with red on his cheeks, Grant almost laughed. "We need to work on controlling your thoughts first so I don't get those images ever again." He paused for a second,staring blankly at the wall. "I never knew I would ever know that much about another man's love life, but knowing that you are my brother makes it hundreds of times worse."

Steve chuckled with pity. "What can I say, I rush into things."

Grant glared lightly at Steve. "Yeah. I know that now. Thanks. By the way, you usually wait for a few dates before jumping in, but according to you, you just confess and jump right into the thick of things." 

Steve just laughed. "How would you know to take someone on dates first?"

Grant sat up slowly, obviously blocking Steve from his thoughts. "I guess I wouldn't."

"Oh god." Steve remembered what happened that caused Grant to become so defensive. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to insinuate… that."

Grant shook his head slowly. "No, it's fine. I just have to apologize to him and we will part ways, and everything will be fine." He stopped, zoning off again. "I'll be fine."

Steve frowned. "Are you sure? I could barely live with myself after I thought Bucky had died on that train. It hurts a lot to be without the person you love the most."

Grant nodded. "I can live without him so I'll be fine. I guess I just don't want to for a little bit longer. I'll have to tell him the truth sooner or later, but I think that things might be alright once he leaves me. I accepted that fact back when I was fourteen." He stopped and reworked his thoughts. "Well, fifteen. I officiallt accepted it after a bit of thinking and a lot of don't kill yourself speeches. Despite what people say, soul searching isn't always worth the result. Thoughts like that really kill a person on the inside. But you know that, you read my journal."

"Yeah…" Steve smiled nervously. "Sorry about that."

Grant shook his head. "It's alright. You needed to come to terms with the situation, reading the journal made sense. You can read the rest of it too if you want."

Steve shrugged. "I would rather go over it with you so I don't get any weird ideas about reasoning. Like, explain to me why you shot a man for dropping your things?"

Grant shrugged. "He had called Natalia a queer since she wasn't swayed by her advances."

"So you shot him in the leg?"

"Twice. Once in both legs."

"Why do people think it's normal for you to shoot people if it only happened once?"

"It wasn't only once."

"How many times?"

"I need two hands to count the times I have shot someone in the camp, maybe even three."

"Grant. Really?"

"They deserved it."

"Says who?"

"Says Lola."

Steve paused for a second in the conversation. "Who's Lola?"

Grant nodded towards his hip. "She's Lola." 

Steve looked at the mind version of the pistol he had hooked to his hip earlier in the day and nodded. "You named your gun?"

Grant nodded. "Her name is Lola, she was my first gun. By the way, nobody touches Lola. Not unless she is pressed against their head and you are about to shoot." 

Steve watched as one of Grant's memories flashed in his own brain. Grant was in a fight, clad in his Hydra uniform with the gun on his hip, punching the man in front of him. Suddenly, the man grabbed for the gun and Grant whipped it out with incredible speed, shooting the enemy between the eyes with the words, "Don't touch Lola." It was honestly amazing and it reminded Steve of someone familiar.

"Okay Grant." Steve looked the man in the eye, daring him to look away. "I want good reasons for why you would shoot someone."

"Didn't you see the memory? He was the enemy and he was going to touch Lola." Grant rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Not what I meant. I understand that you were on a mission, now tell me why you would shoot your comrades."

"They are NOT my comrades." Grant became serious. "If I shoot them, they deserve it."

"Explain."

"First time I shot someone was when a soldier raped one of the show girls that came through town to boost morale. I caught him in the act and shot off his ol' Johnson. Treated the nice young lady to dinner and took her dancing. Second or third time was when I saw one of the older Captains peeping into the showers with a hand down his pants while the newest platoon came in from their first mission. I exposed him to the whole camp and shot him in his 'good' arm if you know what I mean. I don't tolerate peeping at kids, even if they are technically eighteen. The last time I shot someone though was when I found out that one of our own was going to rat us out to the US on one of the biggest missions my Birds had been on. It would have killed hundreds of new recruits still in training, all of the soldiers participating, and my team. So I shot the bastard dead right as he was betraying his country to a US spy in the middle of the camp. Shot the spy in the leg and pinned him to the ground before he could break the suicide pill." Grant went quiet, blocking the memories from running around in Steve's head. "Before you ask, yes, I committed a major felony against Germany."

Steve's eyes flew wide open. "What? Why?" He was frozen. His own brother had betrayed his country doing something that would get him killed. "What did you do?"

Grant looked at his feet. "The whole camp was forced to listen to the spy's screams because we were away from base and Schmidt wanted him punished immediately. I didn't know what I could do, I was the one who had been tasked with the job and I couldn't escape it. So I grabbed something from Doctor Zalin that slowed the heartbeat and stuck it in the spy's arm. I told Schmidt that the man had died, so I had time to drag the poor guy out into the woods. I was told to bury the body, but I got the man on a train instead in the closest town. His name was Robert. I don't know where he is right now, but I hope he's alright. I just couldn't stand doing the same thing that had been done to me."

Steve nodded. "You did the right thing."

Grant scoffed. "You are American. Of course you would say that."

Steve huffed lightly. "Hey, don't scoff at Captain America you dirty Nazi."

Grant laughed. "What about me is so dirty Captain Rogers?"

"Well Captain Rogers, from what I can see, your mind is utterly filthy." Both of the men doubled over laughing at the comment, clutching their stomachs. Steve wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye and sighed, for the first time in a long time, completely relaxed. "You know Grant, I feel sort of bad for just shoving you out of your own body like this. Maybe we could find a way for you to be in control again while looking for a way to get me back to my own time."

Grant just shook his head softly. "Steven, this is going to sound strange, but this isn't my body anymore. I sort of died at the same time that you got here. I had been holding onto life a lot longer than I should have, but I finally decided to let go when I felt my heart stop beating. I had bled out in that forest, but somehow when you got here, the bullet wounds were gone and my heart started beating again. I guess you could say that you saved my life a bit." Grant patted his brother on the back gently. "I might take you up on your offer to take control again though, even if it is just for a few days." He paused for a bit, thinking to himself. "We should probably find a way quickly so that I can take over during missions. I can't bring myself to believe that you would want to take over with all of the paperwork either."

Steve sighed in relief. "Thank the sweet lesbian JESUS! I was scared that I had to do all of it by myself and I absolutely hate paperwork."

Grant looked shocked. "You don't like paperwork? I thought you of all people would understand why I enjoy it. Doesn't it help you with taking your mind off of the nightmares?"

Steve froze. "Paperwork helps with nightmares? How the hell is that?"

"Isn't it just easier to fill your mind with your last mission instead of having to worry about all of the anxiety? It really helps me when I need to take up time so I don't fall back into the bad mentality I had after the first suicide attempt." Grant closed his eyes while speaking. "After hours and hours of staring at the same words over and over again in different orders, you end up seeing the paper when you close your eyes instead of all the blood you've caused people to shed. When you sleep, your mind tends to wander to whatever you spent the most time thinking about during the day and if that's guilt, then you are going to get hit with the guilt as you sleep. If you spend most of your time thinking about dumb little daily things like paperwork, then you will most likely dream about dumb little things like paperwork."

Steve laughed a bit. "Wow, you have this all planned out don't you. Does this mean that you have been getting longer periods of sleep lately?"

"Nah." Grant shook his head. "Just because the nightmares are bearable does not mean that I can sleep very long. Unless I am unreasonably exhausted, I can probably get four solid hours maximum. After that it's a guessing game to see if I wake up in five hours or 23. Sometimes, I just need to shut down for a bit. I'm sure that today is going to be one of those days where we sleep half of the day. Dying for nine days really does that to a guy."

Steve nodded, yawning. "Even I'm tired and I'm sleeping right now."

Grant sighed. "Your body is resting, but your mind is not. You should go back to bed." Steve shot him a worried look. "Don't worry Steven, I will keep the nightmares away from you tonight and any other night that you need me to."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Thanks Grant. I owe you one. A really big one." Then, he hopped off the kitchen table and walked back to the room he had come out of. He laid down on the bed that he had shared with Bucky and quickly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have met Grant. Be prepared for filthy jokes, sexual innuendos, constant longing, and Grant shouting the most embarrassing things he can whenever he gets mad at Steve. Also, Grant is almost 100% pure chaos that Steve has no hope in controlling. His personality varies from moment to moment and I'm pretty fucking sure that he has some sort of bipolar disorder going on in there. He is also a big gay teddy bear, so he is hopeless when it comes to crushes.


	8. Shooting someone in the face and leaving Klaus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a very long chapter, but before we get started, I need you to look up the song "Like Real People Do" by Hozier. You can loop it through the whole chapter, or just listen to it when you get close to the end, but you need to listen to it while reading this chapter. (Play the song when you get to the motorcycle bit.) As a warning, the chapter does contain some explicit or triggering content as Steve and Grant reminisce on past hardships and briefly take a look at the fucked up part of Grant's brain when he kills someone due to anger and his protectiveness over Klaus.

Steve woke up to a quiet room filled with a soft golden light, colors dancing on the walls from the spinning glass attached to light hanging from the ceiling. The four people who slept in his bed were now gone, but someone had left the small window was open and it was letting in an uncharacteristically warm breeze for the time of year. Sitting up, Steve scanned his surroundings with bleary eyes that he slowly rubbed the sleep out of. How long had he been in the bed? Steve felt well rested for the first time in a long while and he rubbed his thighs, feeling a ridiculous amount of happiness that the pressure didn't cause him pain like it normally would have and that he didn't feel scabs break under the force. It was a nice change to the constant throb of his legs, but his hands were shaking lightly and felt numb, so he had to get up and work some circulation into the cold fingers. Shifting to the side of the bed, Steve felt his muscles ache the same way that they always had on the occasional day where he spent hours upon hours in the same position, just drawing things until his legs fell asleep and his fingers went stiff. It was a welcome similarity to his life before the war and before Captain America, so he just took a big breath of the clean air flowing into the room from the window. Steve let his mind wander a bit as he sat on the end of the bed, breathing deeply.

_ I really need to take a shower. I feel like shit. _

**You look like shit too, by the way, the showers are down the hall.**

_ Grant? Is that you? _

**Who else, the Easter Rabbit?**

_ I see that I was correct. I guess that it's time to get up. _

**Please tell me you are going to take a shower. You smell and I don't want Klaus to think that we are unkempt.**

_ I should probably take a run first. I feel like running. _

**I'm pretty sure that the time for a morning run is long past. If you insist on exercise though, the training area is next to the showers.**

_ Nice to know that you can get me around this place. _

**No problem, I wouldn't want you to walk into the room of one of the LadyBirds. Beautiful but deadly.**

_ Nice. Now, walk me to the training rooms. _

Steve chatted with Grant as he changed into clean clothes, pulling on a skin tight long sleeved shirt with a collar that came halfway up his neck and a pair of baggy pants. When Steve asked about the shirt choice that Grant demanded, there was silence before his voice explained that it was to cover up the self harm scars on his chest and forearms that show a bit with normal shirts. He either wore those shirts or his uniform because it covered the faint white scars. Steve understood completely. He usually kept the cuts to his legs because he wasn't expected to take off his pants or anything, but injuries usually happened in the top half of his body and he didn't want people to see the weaknesses on his skin when he had to take off his shirt to get fixed up if his healing factor couldn't take care of it within a few hours. After that conversation, Steve grabbed the journal off the desk exactly where he put it before and engaged in some light banter with Grant inside of his head as he made his way down the hall. There were six doors on either side of the hall, only a few of them occupied by people. Grant explained that the door next to his was Astrid's room, and the door next to that was Natalia. Across from Natalia was Yvette, and next to Yvette was Klaus. The rest of the rooms were either storage space, or rooms for important guests. Grant's room was the closest one to the hall leading back into the military base, but on the other end of the hall was a set of double doors with squares of glass or plastic looking through them. Steve pushed through the doors and was hit with the familiar scent of leather and sweat as he looked around to see a gym similar to the one he trained in at Avengers Tower. It was filled with weights, rope courses, punching bags, training dummies, assorted mats, and hundreds of different items including a few platforms attached to the walls and an uneven mound that was supposed to be some type of rock wall. The only difference was that there was a shooting range type of set up on the far side of the room that consisted of targets filled with bullet holes and large wooden posts covered in knife scars while missing large chunks from the sides. Steve finally felt as if he was home, no matter what time or place he had come from, there was always something similar to keep him grounded. Still stiff, he sat down on one of the mats to stretch while reading more in the journal.

**Are you sure that you want to read the rest of the journal? I mean, I could just tell you what happens instead. There aren't many good things in there.**

_ It's fine with me if there are some less than ideal things. If it doesn't bother you, then I would like to get to know you better from before all of this happened. _

Steve took the silence as a type of grim acceptance as he set the book on the floor between his legs and opened it to where he left off while leaning to one side to touch his toes. The journal picked back up in September and the entries were short and almost every day, talking about life in training, the strangeness of having nobody he knew, and the pain of leaving Klaus. There were pages of pages filled with the casual thoughts on the army rations, tidbits about letters he had sent and received, drawings he had gotten from Elizabeth and Rosemarie, then also the occasional arguments he got into with a man by the name of Wilhem Rumlow. The man was a complete and utter ass, always singling Grant out because he looked like a child and was easy to target, despite the fact that the blonde was just as tall, if not stronger, than most of the men training with the two of them. It was a constant bother to Grant through all of September, October, and November, until Steve came across a particularly interesting journal entry.

_ November 27, 1937 _

_ I really don’t care if I get in trouble anymore. Wilhem Rumlow has been going too far and I'm sick of his constant insults and shoves. Just an hour ago, he shoved me straight into one of the visiting Captains from another training camp and I had to write a formal apology for spilling his coffee and burning his hand. I swear, if he does anything else today, I’m throwing him under the next truck that drives into the camp or hanging him from the roof of the barracks by his underwear. Or I could do something even more fun. Something really fun. Forget about hanging him off the barracks, he’s going to suffer long and slow. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ I can’t believe how genius all of this is. How did I not think about this sooner? I have set up an elaborate string of harmless tricks that won’t hurt Rumlow, but completely humiliate and infuriate him to the point where he goes crazy. The bastard won’t know what hit him. I might have taken a few things from the mess hall to assist in my plans, but it will be beyond worth the risk to see Rumlow get what's been coming to him for months now. _

_ November 28, 1937 _

_ Rumlow goes on a run every morning before most of the camp to get a headstart on the day. Only a few other people are out at this time, normally including me, but sometimes I skip the early run to jog with the rest of the troops, so this was a perfect opportunity to start participating in the war that the bastard declared when he first insulted my Ma. Just before he showered for the day, I switched the soap he uses with part of a lovely concoction I whipped up last night that looks just like his soap, but smells like sewage. Just mix some onion with old, disgusting biscuits from the trash behind the mess hall, making a ball out of it with some paste, and voila, Rumlow smells just like everything that comes out of his mouth. BULL SHIT! While he was busy on his run though, I snuck into the barracks and covered the insides of all his clothing with a nice layer of my personally made itching powder. Sure, it might have just been some crushed up leaves and dirt, but they were stinging nettle and poison ivy leaves mixed with sand from behind the loo. The special mix will give him quite the lovely rash. I already switched out the container of sugar for his coffee with salt, but once he notices, it would be too late because I have three or four people willing to switch it back when they get their coffee. Even his underwear were switched out with underwear belonging to the smallest guy in the whole training camp. Everyone knows how much of a bloody ass he is, and they are all willing to help. Today is going to be uncontrollably amusing for everyone but Rumlow. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ The traps have all been working wonderfully. Rumlow smells like sewage and has been furious all day because of itching on the inside of his clothes. He put salt in his coffee, and was walking strange all day while trying to dig his breeches out of his ass. I have over half of the men in the camp secretly helping me, and the rest have their suspicions about it, but are too amused to care about reporting the incidents. I'm working on a type of glowing solution with one of the scientists training with a doctor at the base we are all training at, and he is willing to help me in my endeavors. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ Mid-day, when he was stomping into the mess hall, Rumlow got a bucket dropped onto his head filled with the water used to clean the toilets. Did I bribe one of nurses on base to get it to me? Nobody will ever know. Except for me, and the answer is yes. I definitely did. A few of my men helped me collect different types of bugs yesterday and I casually slipped a few of them into Rumlow’s food, even dropping a centipede down his shirt discreetly. He nearly vomited when he found the first dead cricket in his mouth, but he went running from the hall to spew when he took a sip of his water. Or, it could have been cleaning solution. All of the tricks were harmless, but that one was borderline harmful because he did actually vomit, so I toned the tricks down so that they wouldn't physically hurt him. But they were all hilarious to me, despite seeming ruthless to anyone who wasn't on the inside. I wanted to watch him squirm. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ I knew every move Rumlow made before he even knew it himself, and I compensated for everything. I greased up all of his weaponry so he would drop it and fumble all day long, jamming the trigger to his gun and dulling the blades of his knives. I cut the soles of his boots in just the right places so that he would be walking unsteadily all day, just waiting for the right time to trip him up. When he wasn't paying attention, I slipped honey on the back oh his boots so that ants would be crawling over his feet all day. I was delighted when they turned out to be fire ants, but even if that was technically harming him, he deserved it. Nobody insults my Ma or little sisters. Anyone who dares should get a face full of fire, and that's exactly what Rumlow got. His dinner was drowned in hot pepper oil that I stole from the mess hall’s storage. It burned his mouth and I was ecstatic. He deserved it after all of the insults and curses thrown at me and my family that he knew nothing about. He needed to pay. I was feeling pretty good about my vengeance after his shower to get the itching powder off. I screwed a packet of red powder onto the shower head -a gift from my little science buddy- and listened to his screams as he watched what he thought was blood come pouring out over his body. He was completely furious and practically ripped the shower head off, but he didn't notice that the soap he used on his hair was replaced with a thick, sticky paste until his towel stuck to his head when he got out of the shower. The whole camp listened to his curses as everything stuck to his head on his way back to his bunk. It was even better to watch his face and hear his cries when he found three glowing snakes under his covers. Thanks scientist kid. Rumlow stomped over to my bunk, accusing me and throwing curses, nearly dragging me out of my bed in an attempt to rip my head from my body until the superiors training us ran in, tearing him away from me and throwing him into one of the cells where they kept all of the torture victims for the night. Sweet revenge was taking its toll. _

_ November 29, 1937 _

_ Rumlow came back to the bunks with sticks, leaves, and dirty stuck to his head from the glue still in his hair. He was fuming mad and it looked as if his face was about to blow up from how red it had gotten. He glared at me the whole morning as he stomped around in his wet boots and ripped things out of his hair and peeled off objects that stuck to him from the paste. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ Someone went through my personal items under my bunk and I bet you all of my money that it was Rumlow. That fucker is going to pay. _

_ <><><><><> _

_ I REGRET NOTHING! Okay, so I regret some things, but he deserved it. I just have to keep telling myself that. Rumlow deserved what he got. I just have to make sure that next time, the anger does not control my actions and we will be fine. Perfectly fine. Nothing wrong at all. _

Steve stopped and looked at the last entry over again, a little worried about what that meant as he finished stretching and moved to wrap his hands in tape so he could get to work on a punching bag in the corner. 

**Do you want to know what happened after Wilhem went through my things?**

_ Yes. I want to know. _

Steve put the journal down on the ground, and started slamming his fists into the punching bag that was ridiculously reinforced. A memory floated to the front of his mind as Grant brought it up for Steve to witness.

\----------

Grant found out that someone had gone through his things, but didn’t bother to look for anything missing in favor of storming out of the barracks and nearly running to the mess hall. It had been Rumlow. Grant had no idea how he should actually know that fact, but it made too much sense for it to be a coincidence. He stomped his way to the other side of the camp, shoving people out of his way and nearly throwing anyone who tried to stop him to the ground. He shoved his way through a laughing crowd when he got to the mess hall to face Rumlow in the middle with all of Grant’s letters from his family, Annah, and Klaus. Wilhem Rumlow was reading Grant’s letters. His _personal_ letters.

Rumlow laughed, reading a letter out loud to laughing soldiers. “Your Ma has cleaned your room while you were gone around seventeen times by now because Rosemarie and Elizabeth keep messing it up every time they go in there to play. They miss you a whole lot and it's very different without you here. Almost as strange as the time when Pops got you in the chest and nearly put you six feet under, but Annah and I are getting by just fine. She misses you and hasn’t taken off that necklace you gave her at all, but I got to meet Julia yesterday. They make a beautiful pair and now I understand why she didn’t seem interested in me when we first met. I have done my best not to relapse while you’ve been away, but it's sort of strange to have to watch myself without you helping me through all of this stuff. Pops has had his case reopened and he’s accusing me of being the one that shot my ma and JoJo, but it’s quickly being closed again because of all the cops that saw him nearly kill you. Everything over here is being handled, but otherwise things are pretty uneventful. I’ll see you in a year Grant, because unlike you, it isn't easy for me to fake my information and get into the military just to take part in some war. I’d still follow you to the moon pal, don’t win the war without me. With love, Klaus.” Rumlow laughed like a maniac as Grant stood there, seeing red blur into his vision. 

“RUMLOW YOU BLOODY FUCKING ASS!” Suddenly all attention was directed to Grant as he shouted, trembling with fury. He had just gotten that letter today, it hadn’t even been opened yet and Wilhem Rumlow had been the first to read it. The fact shook Grant to the bone.

Rumlow laughed as the tent went silent and he waved around the letter. “Hey look everyone, it’s _ Grant _. The kid that falsified his information to get into the army to kill some American scum! How old are you Kid? Fourteen? Fifteen?” Rumlow stood up, letter in hand, crumpling it as he clenched his fist. “I don’t blame you for trying to get in early for a little bit of good natured murder, but you have been a pain in my ass of late, and I think I need to be a law abiding citizen and put a criminal out of his misery.”

Grant fumed, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Give me my letter Rumlow.” He might not have cared much if Rumlow had taken any old letter, but the bastard had taken an unopened letter from Klaus and read it in front of the whole camp, exposing secrets about Annah and Klaus as well, not only Grant.

Rumlow sneered. “I don’t think I will. What’s so important about it anyway? It’s just about a bunch of kids and your Mama. Unless you want it back because you’re friends with a queer dyke and you don’t want it getting out.” Rumlow spat out the words like they burned his tongue and then he spat right on Grant’s face. It was disgusting, but the blonde refused to wipe the spit away. “Or is it because you got shot by your best friend’s Pop?” Rumlow shoved Grant hard enough to knock him back into the wall of people who were watching the fight form in front of them. The people all spread out to give the two more space to work with, but otherwise stayed silent except for the occasional whisper of bets being placed. Then, Rumlow barked out a laugh and got right up in Grant’s face. “Or is the reason you want the letter because of the person who wrote it? I’d follow you to the moon, huh? With love, Klaus? Is he your boyfriend or something? Or is he just your drunkard boy toy, your little plaything to suck your dick when the bastard gets high?” Rumlow shoved him into the dirt and ripped the letter in half twice, throwing the four pieces to the ground. Stepping over them, he walked up to Grant who just stayed silent and still. “What? You’re not going to tell me? Then why don’t you scream for me like the bitch you are?” With that, Rumlow slammed his boot down full force on Grant’s foot, making a sickening snapping noise as his heel broke bones. Grant winced, refusing to make any noise as Rumlow slammed his foot into his shoulder, dislocating it with one swift kick. “Scream you little whore!” then, he delivered a kick full force into Grant’s face, breaking his nose and causing blood to pour down his face.

Rumlow aimed again, but Grant lifted up his good hand just as another kick was going to slam into his face and heard a satisfying gasp as the audience watched him catch the boot fly in at his face. "All of you saw that right?" Grant shouldn't have bothered asking, but Rumlow had just signed his own death warrant because, now, Grant was fucking pissed and nothing was going to stop him. Standing up, he steadied himself on his throbbing foot and grabbed his shoulder, snapping it back into place with a grunt, then moved the broken part of his nose back to the proper position, feeling a tingling sensation as he wiped the blood off his lips. "You want screaming Rumlow? Then I'll give you screaming." Grant looked at the man in front of him that was absolutely terrified as he tried to back away to be cornered by the wall if onlookers.

Rumlow fell to his knees, obviously terrified of the look in Grant's eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things!"

Grant just shook his head. "Then you shouldn't have said them." Poking his nose once, Grant felt as if it shouldn't have been healed by now, but it was now only furiously bruised. He had his father and the weird serum to thank for that. "Get lost Rumlow." Turning his back on the man, he made to leave, but he didn't claim the title of master tactician for nothing just to leave and ignore exactly what he knew Rumlow was going to do.

"It was a mistake to turn you back to me! Coward!" Rumlow launched himself at Grant who quickly sidestepped and slammed his fist into the man's chest cavity, leaving his coughing and unable to breathe. Rumlow attacked again, but he pulled a knife out of his pocket, holding it too expertly to have learned it in the military. Grant dodged and blocked the swift swings, slapping away Rumlow's sharpened blade with the palm of his hand and stepping to the side every time a jab was aimed at his body. Grant listened to the crowd roaring in excitement as Rumlow swiped up at his neck, quickly flipping the knife in his hand expertly and stabbing down at Grant's shoulder to switch hands when he didn't make contact and stabbing at Grant's gut. The blonde dodged and ducked every swipe, occasionally patting Rumlow's arms away sharply when the man came too close for liking, or slipping him up so that he would trip on his uneven boots. The crowd screamed encouragement as the fight became faster and more deadly as Rumlow whipped out another knife and started slashing and jabbing like a mad man sentenced to his grave. Grant just avoided the knives calmly, hundreds of different plans shooting through his brain to quickly disarm the man in front of him and end the fight, but Grant decided to draw this out as long as possible to get the best outcome.

"Come on you dame ! Can you not keep up or something?" Grant teased and prodded his prey while fanning the fury flaring hot and heavy in his chest, ready to break this man's arms in half and then crack his skull open with his bare hands. "Don't be a lead hoofer and wuss out on me. You are terrible at dancing, I mean, really, what are you doing with those feet?" It wasn't even a joke. Despite all of Rumlow's fancy knife work with flips, switches, slashes, and jabs, his footwork was the saddest thing Grant had ever seen and he had seen himself dance. It was a flurry of outraged screams after that that accompanied the slowing knife blades and exhausted stumblings, but it was exactly what Grant wanted. He wanted his prey weak and tired so that it easily screamed when he killed it. Swing after swing was aimed at his face, but none of them even came close to harming him, but with no lack of effort. Soon, Rumlow was exhausted and he had to bend over, bracing his hands on his knees, and Grant finally came close. "Do you surrender?" There was no way Rumlow would, but even if he did, Grant wouldn't have spared him.

Rumlow gasped for air and then spit on the ground, sneering with pure hatred. "No. Never to the likes of you."

"That's all I needed to hear." Suddenly, with a speed that he didn't know he had, Grant took a giant step forward and slammed his boot into Rumlow's face so hard that the force carried him up into a standing position. Grant quickly landed a flurry of well aimed blows to the man's stomach and chest before slamming his fist right into the broken nose of his opponent, forcing it into the same sideways angle his nose had been only ten minutes prior. He ruthlessly slammed his fists into Rumlow's face, arms, chest, and stomach to keep the man from fighting back as he pushed the fight in his favor, never letting up on his blows as the crowd screamed and scrambled out of the way as the fight moved. It continued like that until Rumlow's back hit a metal table and Grant wrapped his left hand in Rumlow's shirt and he heavily slammed his fist into the bastard's face hard as his arm would be forced to hit. 

He would have kept on hitting Rumlow's face in if the crowd hadn't gone silent, causing Grant to let his anger ebb a little to stop and see what was happening around him. When he turned, he came face to face with Johann Schmidt himself and he quickly backed away respectfully as not to anger the man. "Were you going to kill this man?" Grant froze up at the senator's question, not knowing the right answer to give because of course was going to kill Rumlow and if Schmidt would kindly fuck off, he could get to back to it, but instead, he just choked on his words. To Grant's surprise, Schmidt made no move to help Rumlow who was bleeding and groaning all over the place while leaving himself draped over the table, but instead, he pulled back his jacket. Grant froze as Schmidt pulled out a pistol and pointed it right between the blonde's eyes. "Tell me, if I were to hand you this gun, would you kill him?"

Grant couldn't help the rage that welled up in his chest and he scoffed. "Not until he kissed my boots and begged for mercy."

Schmidt narrowed his eyes and lowered the gun, flipping it around and holding it out for Grant to take. He immediately turned to Rumlow with murderous intent flaming in his eyes and pointed the gun at the man who had slumped onto the ground. "Beg. I dare you to try changing my mind."

Immediately, Rumlow started sobbing, crawling over to Grant's shoes and kissing them. "Please, please spare me! I'm too young to die! I have a wife and a son back home and I can't make my boy grow up without a father, please, please, I just can't. You have to spare my life, please, I'm begging you. I'm sorry for everything I said, I'm sorry that I insulted your Ma so many times and called her a whore and I'm sorry for cursing your sisters and father and I'm sorry for calling your friend a queer and a dyke and I'm sorry for calling your friend a boy toy and I'm sorry for stealing your letters and I'm sorry for everything, just please don't make my little boy grow up without a father!" He sobbed into the grass over and over again, begging for his life, and Grant lowered the gun to his side, crouching down in front of the broken and sobbing man.

"I forgive you." Rumlow looked up, beaming as his deformed, blood soaked face covered itself in more tears. "But I do know from Klaus's experience that having no father at all is better than having a father like you." Leaving just enough time for Rumlow to process the words and scream, Grant shoved the barrel of the pistol under Rumlow's chin and pulled the trigger three times, a little excessive because he just wanted to see the bastard's blood. Two bullet holes appeared on Rumlow's forehead and one on his temple, the blood and brain matter spraying all over whatever was closest, and that happened to also include Grant. He stood up to face Schmidt with a neutral expression and held out the blood soaked gun. "Thank you for letting me borrow this."

Schmidt shook his head. "It no longer belongs to me. You have passed a very crucial test young man, the gun is now yours. Use it well. I will explain all later, but for now," Schmidt held out his hand, "welcome to Hydra." Grant shook Schmidt's hand firmly with a flicker of a smile on his face, obviously knowing that he had just been promoted. 

\----------

Steve slammed his fist into the reinforced punching bag so hard that his fist went straight through, and the thick chains holding it to the ceiling ripped out of the cement, leaving the bag to dangle off of his arm.

_ You killed Wilhem Rumlow?! _

**Yes. I told you that there were things in that journal that I wasn't proud of.**

_ That wasn't in the fucking journal! That was a memory! _

**Yes, but the journal is literally a collection of memories and innermost thoughts. The thing is that I'm not proud of it, and don't lie to me saying that you wouldn't want to do the same.**

_ Of course I wouldn't want to kill him! _

**Liar.**

_ And how would you know that? _

**I can see your memories. I know exactly how much you wanted to rip Brock Rumlow's throat out when you learned what he did to your Bucky. I can see the many ways you fantasized about his death and how you would rip his head off with your bare hands.**

_ Okay, so what. I didn't actually do it. _

**Because you didn't get to him before the helicarrier did. Or else you would have.**

Steve froze, shoulder deep in a punching bag, and he bit his lip softly. If it was for Bucky, then Steve would have dismantled Brock in a heartbeat. Grant wasn't making things up, Steve would kill someone without a second thought if they hurt Bucky. 

_ Okay. So, you’re right. I did actually want to rip out Brock’s throat, but- _

**No butts. Only dick.**

_ What the ever loving fuck. _

**Oooh, I like that. I’m going to use that.**

_ Please don’t. _

**No.**

_ What kind of monster have I created? _

**I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now teach me how to use those curse words in the future.**

Steve shook his head slowly, pulling the punching bag off of his arm and letting the leaking bag drain sand onto the floor like a dead body bleeding out. It wasn't the most pleasant image after seeing Wilhem Rumlow’s blood being splattered all over the mess hall, but it was just sand. Putting up walls in his mind, Steve blocked Grant out for a bit to think over what just happened and to continue with training. Moving over to one of the mats, Steve planned out a small routine to accomplish just to see how flexible his body was and how much stamina he had now. Looking around the gym, he moved around anything he needed, making sure that the wooden posts were indeed bolted to the ground and ceiling before backing up towards the entrance and running at the makeshift obstacle course. He jumped up onto one of the platforms attached to the wall, jumping and flipping between the platforms and the wooden posts before grabbing onto a bar swinging from the ceiling and throwing himself onto one of the rope courses to run through it and scramble up the climbing wall to slide down the other side and jump over a few hurdles. He swung himself over a mat with a rope hanging from the ceiling, quickly scaling it and swinging back up to another ropes course closer to the ground and dropping himself into a small maze of sorts that he ducked and dodged through as to not hit his head on the small places he had to squeeze through until he got out and jumped a few more hurdles, punched a few punching bags, dodged a few swinging projectiles, and nearly kicked the face off of Natalia until she grabbed his foot before it could hit her. “Holy motherfucking shit balls!” Steve put his foot hown unsteadily as he came face to face with the assassin, taking a deep breath.

“What did you just say?” Natalia tilted her head to the side a bit, trying to make sense of the sting of words that had poured out of his mouth. 

Steve shook his head, steadying himself after the dizzying training he had just put himself through. “It’s nothing Natalia. Just something I heard somewhere once.” Yeah. That somewhere being Tony fucking Stark with the filthiest mouth Steve had ever heard, second only to his own. Sure curse words existed in the 1940s, but they were different and nobody really said motherfucker in the same context as he had just moments ago. At least, they hadn’t been for long. It existed since the 1800s, but it was never used often, especially in Germany.

“No, I understood what you meant and what you said, I’m just trying to figure out why.” She sat down onto the floor next to him and gestured for him to sit too. “Were you surprised to see me?”

Steve nodded while sitting down. “Yeah, just wasn’t expecting anyone to be here while I was training, and also I nearly kicked you in the face.”

Natalia laughed lightly. “Yes, I suppose you almost did.” She patted Steve’s hand lightly and smiled. “Do not worry Grant, I would not have stabbed you too hard if you had succeeded.” 

Steve snickered a little. “Too hard. You say too hard, but I know you wouldn't stab me at all, would you?”

Natalia grinned. “You are a very clever one Grant Rogers, a very clever one indeed.”

Steve shook his head laughing. “No I’m not! I just know the future.”

Natalia scoffed and smiled good naturedly. “No you do not. I would have thought that you would have told us if you could know the future.”

Steve smiled covering his lips with one finger. “You will never know now, will you?”

Natalia cocked her eyebrow silently and whispered in russian. “But I will find out Rogers. I will find out.”

Steve just laughed and stood up, pulling Natalia to her feet as well. “I’m going to go take a shower because I haven’t been cleaned in ten days and I smell.” Natalia giggled as Stevce walked away, letting Grant back into his mind just so that the grumpy man could direct him to the showers. He quickly stripped and stepped under the stream of water, realizing that the water was actually warm and the pressure wasn’t complete crap. He smiled softly, letting himself stand there and waste water for a few moments before moving to scrub himself down with some soap and quickly jumping out to dry himself off. Steve wrapped himself up in a towel and Grant directed him over to a sink in the corner so that he could trim his beard before heading back out into the training area to spend some time with Natalia and whoever else was out there. He smiled at the sound of laughing from the other room as he got dressed in the clothes he had set aside and then walked out, still rubbing at his hair with a towel. Steve looked over to the group of people training and laughing over by the shooting range as he walked over to the dead punching bag in the corner closest to him so that he could pull out the journal he had hid next to it. Steve walked towards the door silently so that he could put the journal away before going to talk with Natalia again, noticing that she had been joined by the rest of the Birds and they were all speaking to each other. As he passed, Steve couldn’t help but to hear their conversation because of his enhanced hearing, but the things he heard made him wish that he didn’t hear any of it at all as the conversation took a more serious tone.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t have said that. He already thinks that you hate him.” Natalia placed her hand gently on Klaus’s shoulder as he shuffled around and looked at his feet.

“I know.” Klaus paused, taking a deep breath. “But he hates me now, I just know it. Did you see how he brushed us off out in the yard? I probably made him hate me, especially when I’m going directly against protocol with all of these… feelings.” He groaned. “What am I going to tell him? Hey Grant, sorry I told you who I liked but it was actually all a lie despite promising you that I would never lie to you ever. And also, maybe I have some hidden feelings that really aren’t allowed here and probably never will be so I have to hide them or else I would probably get killed by my own god damn comrades.”

Astrid patted him on the back a little harder than necessary. “Calm down Klaus. Just man up for once in your life and tell the poor man that you’re dying.”

Steve froze, hidden from sight over on the other side of the gym, and he bit his lip.

**What? **

Steve noticed how hard the information hit Grant because his voice cracked at the end of that single word.

_ I’m sure that it’s going to be okay. Maybe we misheard what they said? _

“Astrid!” Yvette practically yelled at the blonde. “How many times have we told you this? Klaus is not telling Grant that he’s dying!”

Klaus groaned and put his head in his hands heavily. “Do you have any idea what that would do to him Astrid? It would crush him. I would prefer that he hated me and thought I was some sort of abomination over telling him that I had some sort of incurable disease.” He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. “I just don’t know how to tell him the truth about this sort of thing because I know that he’ll freak out and hate me!”

Yvette frowned. “Come on Klaus. He’s not going to freak out on you, you have been his best friend since you two were children. Do you really not trust how strong your bond is? He obviously cares for you more than you realize and it’s sort of hard to ignore how worried he gets when you are in danger.”

“How would you know that?! How would you know how he would react?” Klaus had raised his voice to a half shout at the three women in front of him. “Have you ever seen Mister Let’s kill my own comrade because he upset me and I’m in a bad mood today? Or Mister Hey, I found out that I’m actually adopted and from America with my own twin brother as the face of the entire United States military, but I’m still going to be a super assassin from Germany because yay, murder? Or how about my personal favorite, Mister Let’s leave my best friend to wonder why the fuck I won’t talk to him for months at a time so that I can ruin our friendship to a point where it can’t be fixed and then get a fucking girlfriend at the worst possible time in the world, only to completely crush him once he nearly dies so that I can run off and get myself killed in a fucking war.” He took a shaky breath and let himself fall into a sitting position on the mat underneath him, quickly followed by the rest of the Birds. “Listen, Grant literally had a coffee with Hitler. Three times. If I ever tell him the truth, he’s probably going to kill me if he doesn't hate me for the rest of his life.”

Natalia, Yvette, and Astrid all shared a similar sympathetic look before Natalia spoke up. “I know that we don’t know him as much as you do, but we do know that he could never hate you, no matter how bad you mess up.”

Yvette smiled and reached out to touch Klaus’s hand. “Klaus, you once left his window open in the middle of January during the worst snowstorm of the year. And you pushed him off of a cliff into a river after nearly destroying everything he owned by pulling the pin on a grenade stuck under a blanket. If he didn’t get mad at you for that, why would he get mad at you for this?”

Klaus’s face went red. “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to leave the window open and I didn’t even know that there was a grenade under the blanket! Also, he tripped off of that cliff. He was the one that was walking behind me as I was backing up. So, it was his fault.”

Astrid laughed like a maniac. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that Klaus. I’m sure that will help you confess to Grant. Honestly, I’m still with the idea that you tell him that you’re dying.”

Steve heard enough, and apparently so had Grant because the voice had gone completely silent except for the occasional quiet sob, so Steve just ran towards the exit as fast as he could. He was obviously seen by the Birds because he heard Astrid yell out a string of curses that Tony would love to use, and Natalia gasped. Steve just kept on running as Klaus yelled his name in desperation, but he didn’t stop. He just ran to Grant’s room, whipping out the metal box and locking it once he got the journal inside, then he ran out, slamming the door behind him as Grant silently walked him through the military base to get to some sort of office. The plaque said Senator Johann Schmidt.

_ What do I do? Why are we here? _

**Mission. Just- anything. We need to get away to think, clear our head. We need to leave now. **

_ Okay. let’s see what we can do. _

Steve knocked on the door, bringing up walls in his mind so that Schmidt didn’t know what he was thinking. He heard someone call for him to come in, so he walked forward and stopped in front of Johann Schmidt’s desk. “Herr Schmidt.”

Schmidt nodded. “Captain Rogers. What can I do for you today?”

Steve swallowed thickly. “I would like a mission sir. After my time in the forest, I feel as if I have been idle for too long with nothing substantial to do, so I would like to go on a mission right away to focus my mind.”

Schmidt nodded. “Alright Captain Rogers, I know the perfect mission inside of your prefered parameters. You can leave in two days.”

Steve bit his lip. “Sir? If we broke the parameters, are there any missions that I could leave on today?”

Schmidt looked shocked. “Your opinions on your missions became very strict after your mission with the 107th and we had to rewrite your whole contract. I would prefer if we did not have to do that again.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “We do not have to rewrite the contract, I’m merely asking to be put on a mission right away so that I can be useful to my country. No matter the mission, it can be looked over in the official reports if need be.”

Schmidt stayed silent for a while. “I do believe that we must put this in the official reports, but seeing as you would like to go on a mission, there is only one available at this time and it is very much out of your preferred area of work.” Steve gestured for the man to go on. “The mission will last for six months, training new recruits in the war, teaching them and honing their abilities. After you are officially released from that mission, you will continue your missions while being situated in our military base located in Austria. All of your missions while you are away will be given to your team, most likely either the Northern Harrier or the Peregrine Falcon, so that you will be free to complete the training of your recruits with no interruptions. I do not expect you to accept the mission, but if you do, you will need to have all personal items packed up and ready to be transported within half an hour at the most.”

**Yes. Say yes. This is the perfect one. We need to go and we need to go now.**

_ Are you sure? What if we just talked to Klaus and asked why he didn’t tell us that he was dying? _

**NO! TAKE THE MISSION! If I don’t have time to clear my head, I’m going to break down and hit someone very hard with a bat! Please Steven, you have to understand what I’m going through.**

Steve felt a giant wave of mixed up emotions hit him like he just got ran over by a train and over half of it was panic and terror. “Yes. I’ll take the mission.” He knew what it felt like to be so lost and desperate that you just needed to get away from the world for a while, but instead of running away after Bucky’s death, he had just spent three days without eating or drinking alone in his tent before trying to kill himself with liquor. It hadn’t been very productive and he ended up nearly getting himself shot on the two missions he went on before crashing the Valkyrie into the ice. Steve didn’t want Grant to try killing himself, because Steve felt sure that Grant could do it despite being stuck with Steve in his head.

Schmidt looked surprised, but just handed Steve a folder from the desk in front of him. “Alright then, suit up and be ready to ship out within the hour. I will notify the people you will be traveling with to gather your things from your room and move them onto a truck to be transported. Read through the file and return it to me before your departure. No official mission report will be filled out since of the mission’s length, but a summary of your time and progress will be required at the end of your six months. Dismissed.” 

Steve nodded quickly and left the office, following Grant’s instructions back to his room. Steve immediately pulled the boxes from the corner of the room and moved everything back into them with quick precision in under fifteen minutes as Grant talked to him in a very stressed tone while reading over the file at the same time.

**Hurry up Steven. We have to leave before the Birds get back.**

_ Weren’t they in the training room a few minutes ago? _

**Yes, but whenever I’m upset, I usually leave the base to get some fresh air out in the woods for a bit. They will search for me out there until they find out that there are no tracks in the snow and then they will come back to look for me here. We have to be gone before they realize that I didn’t actually take a walk. I understand that you are confused by all of this and honestly, so am I, but I don’t think that I will be able to handle talking to any of them right now. Not like this. I’m not good with telling people about my feelings and I’m pretty sure that I fucking proved that when I raped my best friend when he was drunk and couldn’t remember a damn thing.**

_ Wasn’t that when you were fourteen though? _

**I HAVEN’T GOTTEN BETTER AT TALKING TO PEOPLE STEVEN! I MEAN, JUST LOOK AT WHAT I'M DOING. I'M RUNNING AWAY INSTEAD OF HAVING TO WATCH MY BEST FRIEND DIE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!**

_ It’s not your fault that he’s dying Grant. You can’t do anything about it. _

**But he’s still dying. I can’t be here when he dies Steven. I can’t. I just can’t do it. I won’t survive. God… Steven, I’m too scared.**

_ Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. We are just going to spend some time away from the chaos to figure things out in a very non stressful environment with some kids using guns. That actually sounds horrible. Promise me we can come back when we’re done dealing with them? _

**Yeah, I don’t have the best memories of my time in training and I would rather not go back, but It’s a vacation. Of sorts.**

_ That’s the spirit! This is all just a nice, six month long vacation to get away from your time as an assassin and super spy! _

Steve almost smiled at his own joke as he put the lid on the last box to hear people come up behind him. When he turned around, it was just a few men to take everything down for transport, and he relaxed a bit. Steve followed Grant’s instructions to walk across the hall to the door there and opened it, looking in to see a small room with scattered items on a few different tables, covered in a dim yellow light from a lamp in the corner. He looked across the tables, seeing a treasure trove of memories, both good and bad. There were a couple fancy suits, some casual clothes, three pairs of leather gloves, two belts with different items and holders attached, boots, shoes, cigarettes, matches, small high powered bombs, small guns, big guns, throwing knives, pocket knives, a camera, a book filled with pictures, multiple film rolls, a photo developing kit, some extra blankets, a large tool kit that looked like it was used for some heavy mechanics, a beaten down wallet, and a small velvet box.

_ What is all of this? _

**Things from past missions, infiltration, intel gathering, assassinations, you know, the works.**

_ What's in the little velvet box? _

**Nothing.**

Steve saw an image flash in his mind and he smiled. It was a ring made of white gold with a simple design of elegantly twisting metal, a crescent moon of some dark colored metal sitting in the middle. The inside of the ring were carved a few tiny, delicate words. “I’d follow you to the moon.”

_ Looks like a wedding ring. _

**It’s not. Just something silly. Almost like a joke.**

_ Was it just in case you ever found out that he could possibly love you too? _

**Yes. **

Steve smiled to himself, picking up the box and looking at the ring inside instead of the one from the memory. It was more beautiful in person, the light reflecting off of the shiny metal.

_ It’s beautiful. I’m sure he would love it. _

**So am I. If I ever had the chance to give it to him. But I don’t, and now I never will because he’s going to be gone before I ever see him again. I wish I could have said goodbye.**

_ He’s not gone yet, you still can. _

**No. I can't face him right now. I have to go. Now, let’s pack all of this up and move it to Austria.**

Steve sighed and just started packing everything up in the heavy trunks he found in the corner until he got to the last table with the clothing items. 

**Grab a belt and gloves. We need them.**

Steve just rolled his eyes and grabbed a brown belt and black gloves before he heard a loud screech echo in his head.

**WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU HAVE TO MATCH THE GLOVES WITH THE BELT, NOT THE SUIT!**

Steve just rolled his eyes and switched the gloves for a pair of brown ones before throwing the rest of the clothes on the table into one of the trunks and finished packing everything up.

**Great, now turn to your right. Put it on.**

_ You have got to be fucking kidding me. Way to scream “I’m the bad guy.” I honestly thought that it was only part of my dreams. _

**It’s fine and nothing compared to your ridiculous suit. You wear red white and blue on your ass.**

_ I do not wear it on my ass. _

**I believe that the picture a certain Mr. Tony Stark took of you with Captain America boxers proves me right.**

_ How the hell do you know about that? _

**If you know about it, so do I.**

_ Bitch. _

**Jerk. Now put the damn thing on.**

_ Those are tights. _

**No. They are a pair of Klaus’s pants.**

_ I’m going to fucking rip them if I put them on. _

**I haven’t yet. And besides, they bring out you best assets.**

_ You mean my ass. _

**Yes I mean your ass, now put it on.**

_ Fine. You owe me. _

**You can have the suit. **

_ Nevermind, I think I’m good. _

Steve listened to his brother’s insane laughter as he moved over to the suit in front of him. It was exactly like the one in his dream, completely black except for a few lines on his chest and shoulders, then one that trailed under his pecks to drop down his stomach. There was a patch on his right shoulder with a symbol that he assumed belonged to the Birds since it looked like a fucking bird, but it didn’t make the suit look any better as it hung limply on a wooden manequin bust. So Steve didn’t do the logical thing and burn it, but instead he put the damn thing on. Looking down, he whistled slowly as he turned himself around, clipping the brown belt to his waist and slipping on the brown leather gloves.

_ Wow. Just, wow. I’m sorry for making fun of you before but the black is really flattering and I can see my abs through the fabric. I can barely even breath with my regular suit on, what is this made out of? _

**Remember the person I called my little science buddy in the journal? His name is Doctor Allen L. Hart, named after his grandfather. The fabric is a woven carbon fiber denim mix that is incredibly flexible and not easy to tear so bullets and knives definitely do less damage. It’s the equivalent of a wreck proof sports car in the land of fabric sciences, you’ll have to get Tony to call up Hart’s descendant and make a new suit for yourself when you get back home.**

_ Good idea, I'll keep it in mind. _

**Also, your ass looks great in black. **

_ Thanks. Not really since you’re my brother and it’s weird, but thanks all the same. _

**Technically it’s my ass so I’m complimenting myself.**

_ Stuck up much? _

**You know it Steven. Now for the best part, look to the corner across from you.**

Steve froze and his eyes went wide. “No way, no fucking way. Son of a bitch.” He walked over to a beautiful black motorcycle and ran his hand over the leather seat with reverence. “It’s a Harley. All the way from America. The company was one of the only motorcycle companies to survive through the Great Depression, and you have one right here.”

**Yeah, I bought her when I went overseas to America on one of my first few missions there. She’s my pride and joy.**

“Dear lord, she must run beautifully. What do you call her?”

**Annah.**

“Oh.” Steve paused for a second, feeling a small ache in his chest before it disappeared.

**We should get going now. They must have started leaving by now and we don’t want the Birds to catch us.**

“Yeah. We should go.” Steve opened the door to see four of five men waiting there to grab everything from the room that was to be taken along for the trip. He moved over to the motorcycle and followed the men out of the room while pushing the bike along behind them all the way out into the yard. All of Grant’s boxes and trunks had been moved onto the bed of a truck and Steve entrusted his bike to a young man who was looking at her in awe, sure that he would be able to load it up without hurting her at all. Then, Steve swiftly made his way back to Schmidt’s office with Grant’s help to return the mission file. Surprisingly, Schmidt wished him luck on the mission with a half smile as Steve walked back to the yard.

_ Is Schidt always that nice to you? _

**Of course, he’s my mentor. He taught me most of the things I know about espionage. **

_ You know his face is fake right? _

**WHAT?!**

Steve brought up the memory of when he first met the Red Skull as he peeled off the fake face to leave behind a bloody red skull that he had named himself after.

**Ewwwwww. That was gross. Why would he peel off his face?**

_ Why are you asking me that? _

**I don’t actually know.**

Steve shook his head slightly as he got back to the trucks that had started taking off. He hopped into the bed of the truck hauling all of Grant’s things, sitting on one of the trunks as the vehicle rolled away in the muddy snow, the last one to leave. Leaning back, Steve looked at the blue sky, feeling the crisp air blow a breeze to ruffle his hair and neatly trimmed beard, letting the sun dance freely across his face.

“GRANT!” Steve froze, sitting up again and searching the area around him for the shout until he spotted Klaus running out of the base at full speed with Natalia, Yvette, and Astrid trailing behind him. “DON’T LEAVE! I’M SORRY!” Steve bit his lip, watching as the truck picked up speed and Klaus slowed down to a jog, then a walk, then came to a stop. Klaus fell to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks, just watching as his best friend left him again, just like all of those years ago.

Steve knew that there was only one thing to keep him from jumping off of the moving truck to run back to Klaus and wrap the sobbing brunette into his arms, so he stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted. “Klaus! I’d follow you to the moon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that not a lot of people are going to be happy with me after this chapter and that's perfectly fine because this was my favorite chapter to write. It really shows how messed up Grant is because of the trauma he gained from the incident with Klaus's dad, confusion of the serum, repulsion he has towards himself, and the lingering depression and suicidal thoughts, and how he has to cope with that all while still trying to get better for Klaus's sake. To be honest, if it wasn't for Klaus depending on him, Grant would have killed himself long ago because of how much he hated himself, but now he's learning healthier coping mechanisms instead of just attempting to drown himself whenever the anxiety and depression kicks in. To make all of you feel better though, this book is confirmed to go on all the way until the point where the first Steve crashes the Valkyrie and possibly longer. Also, Astrid eventually gets married, meeting her husband on one of the missions Grant was supposed to go on and Grant's kid is the ring bearer at Astrid's wedding. Feel better yet? Small little spoilers that aren't important in this book, but will be in the next one.


	9. Klaus finds out about the Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT! Klaus actually finds out about the Mistake that Grant's been beating himself up over for years? You know... that thing that happened when he was only a teenager and drunk as a fucking skunk? Yeah, he finds out and it doesn't go as Grant planned.
> 
> Also, warning. Mentions of rape, blood, mild anxiety attack, and major PTSD. There is also the beginning of a prank war. So that's fun.

Steve opened his eyes slowly, looking around a bit at the large tent he had been sleeping in and sighed, not prepared to deal with another day of working with ten year olds. That little fact had been removed from the file he had gotten from Schmidt, nothing indicating that he would be responsible for more than one group of new recruits. One of the groups, he actually trained in hand to hand combat and weaponry because they had recently been enlisted, but they were all in the 18 to 21 range. The other group though were just a bunch of kids from surrounding cities and towns here for two or three months to learn the basics of what would be done in the military when they became old enough to join, but they were all in the 13 to 16 range and they were insane on the best day. He taught the kids everything they were supposed to know, even teaching the girls how to nurse someone back to health when they got sick or lost a limb because apparently this damn training camp didn't have a doctor and Steve had to be a doctor as well as a teacher. It wasn't too hard to walk around, explaining things to children, but it was every single day for the past month and a half and he had to take two lessons for the older group and cram them both into three hours when he should have gotten at least five each day. Steve had been very busy, but he still kept up a semi-normal schedule since he didn't get too much sleep during the night and that gave him time to get up early to go on his morning run before anyone in the camp woke up. The nightmares continued, but they weren't horrible due to Grant doing his best to fight them during the night. It was still hard to get out of bed in the mornings, but he had things to do to encourage him. Steve spent a few more moments just zoning out in his bed, the darkness lulling him back to sleep, but he got up anyway because Grant usually fell asleep when Steve first got up. He felt the familiar presence drift to the back of his mind slowly as he got dressed in the now normal attire of a long sleeved shirt and pants so that he could go running. It was hard to move around in the frigid air, the knowledge that he had left Klaus weighing heavily on his mind. Steve knew that Grant needed time to process the fact that he was about to lose his best friend, but he still felt the jarring impact of actually leaving instead of being there for the brunette when he eventually died. Thoughts bounced back in forth in his head, every single one of them having to do Klaus and the fact that he was dying. Neither Steve or Grant knew when Klaus was going to die, but Grant had elected not to be there when Klaus was put six feet under.

Stepping outside of his tent, he swiftly avoided the stream of water that fell from a bucket that had been rigged to pour onto his head. It was a clever little system, but not clever enough to match the intellect of a trained soldier with both the serum and mind of Sarah Rogers. Steve took apart the contraption and took the bucket back to the mess hall where it had come from, moving purposefully toward the outside of the camp to start a light jog. He had taken to keeping the watch from the metal box on his wrist since it was a gift from Grant's father before he died, and he checked the time when he actually started running at full speed to see if he could break his record time for twenty laps around the whole camp. He did his best to keep his mind blank when Grant's nightmares started so that his brother didn't have to go through the same thing that he did, and it worked most of the time except for a few flashes here or there where particularly bad thoughts slipped through on accident. He ran faster, pushing himself harder than he had before, nearly flying with the speed of his feet touching the ground. 

It was a welcome distraction from the day that lay ahead and he just closed off his mind for a few beautiful minutes to let himself back in the emptiness of his brain before he snapped back to attention when he heard a scream being immediately cut off, sliding a few feet on the frosted grass as he turned to run back in the direction he heard the scream from. He ran into the camp to the tent that all of the girls shared and saw three men standing outside, another two dragging a few girls out with guns trained at their heads. Steve silently snuck up behind the group of men to peek into the tent flap, seeing four more men inside, all of them in US military uniforms. Standing up straight with a commanding aura, he grabbed the shoulder of a man holding one of the girls who were quietly sobbing and turned him. "What do you think you're doing?"

The man turned with anger plastered on his face, quickly replaced with confusion. "Captain America? What are you doing here?"

Thinking quickly, Steve crossed his arms as three of the four men came out of the tent to see what the conversation was about. "This is the USO tour you crumbs! What are you doing here?" 

The soldier looked embarrassed, looking towards his equally flustered comrades and he slowly let go of the girl he was holding in his arms, lowering his gun. "I'm so sorry Mr. America, sir. It's just my friends and I were sent to slip into this training camp right over the border into German territory and take a few prisoners to send a message and slow down their progress."

Steve looked at them appalled, pulling the loose girl to his chest and moving his other hand forward to motion the other two girls to come toward him which they gladly did. "Well, you've got the wrong damn camp now don't you? We're placed right over the border on the non-German side and you just assaulted innocent United States citizens. What kind of soldiers are you? Nearly capturing your own people and hurting them." Steve grabbed the gun that one of the soldiers still had pointed at them with a sharp glare. "Give me that. Idiot. Now get lost and take your buddies with you before someone gets their eye shot out like the foolish children you are acting like."

The soldier that got his gun taken away lowered his head as Steve handed it back with a scowl. "Sorry for the misunderstanding Captain. It won't happen again." He sighed and started shuffling away dejectedly, the other soldiers scrambling away quickly.

"You better believe it won't happen again! I will be reporting this terrible mistake to your superiors!" Steve hugged the three girls tightly until gently pushing them back into their tent so that they wouldn't be stuck in the middle of the fight about to take place.

One of the soldiers stopped and turned around with a glare. "The USO tour doesn't come around here for another three weeks." He brought up his gun as the other soldiers turned as well, realizing what that meant. "We've been played!"

Steve laughed."Just like the cheap kazoos you are!" He smiled as he ran at the utterly confused soldiers and he slammed a fist into the face of one of them hard enough to knock the man out. Tony and Clint would have been so proud if they had heard that genius quip. Steve made a mental note to use that line as often as possible as he kicked a different US army soldier between the legs, hearing a noise that every single man took a moment to wince at. Then, Steve heard a gunshot and felt a sharp sting drag across his side before he slammed his elbow into the face of the man who had shot him. 

Moving quickly, he avoided bullets from two more men as they shot at him, slipping behind the group and punching two of them in the base of their spines. Four down, five to go. Steve moved his feet quickly, trying not to seriously injure anyone as he sank his fists into the stomach of one soldier and swiped the legs out from under another, slamming their faces into the ground as gunshots rang out, aimed at him. He got a small running start before jumping into the air and flipping forward above the three men, grabbing the shirts of two as he landed, throwing them into a tree as their unconscious bodies were draped over a few branches from the force of the impact. Before he could turn, the last man had an arm around his neck and a gun pressed against his head. "Listen here, I don't know who you are, but if you make one single move, your insides of your brain become your outsides."

Steve sighed, watching as the other soldiers and trainees finally appeared after being drawn by the sound of gunshots. "Wow guys, thank you for getting here so quickly. I would like to ask for your help, but all of you are terrible shots." The sarcasm dripped from his voice as he rolled his eyes.

"Not me." Steve looked up, hearing a familiar voice in the crowd that he really wanted to be imagining.

Pulling back into himself and dropping the sarcastic tone, Steve turned his head to look at the man who had a gun against his head and stared him dead in the eye. "As one soldier to another, please do me a favor and pull the trigger. I am literally begging you to just shoot me and end my misery."

The soldier looked at Steve with worry etched onto his features, loosening his grip a bit. "Are you alright?"

Before Steve could answer with "fuck no", a gunshot rang out and the soldier holding onto him flew backwards with a bullet through his head, leaving Steve to stand alone in front of seventy odd people. And one very angry Klaus who looked like he wanted to pull the trigger again but aim it at the blonde's face.

Stomping forward, Klaus put away his gun -thank god- and slammed his fist into Steve's jaw with a sickening crack, sending him into the dirt. "What were you thinking!"

Steve rubbed his jaw where it stung and already started swelling. "Nice to see you too Klaus. How long has it been?"

He glared, fury burning in his eyes. "A month and sixteen days."

"Seventeen." Steve stood up. "It's been a month and seventeen days."

Klaus scoffed. "Glad to know you can count you bastard. Now answer me. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!"

Steve sighed, mumbling some sort of answer. "Rr… wasn't."

"What!" Klaus looked as if he was going to hit Steve again.

"I wasn't! Ok? I wasn't thinking at all and it was just on a whim because I was freaking out a little. Actually, not a little. I was freaking out a lot!" Steve scratched at his beard and noticed the crowd standing around in the morning light, so he just grabbed Klaus by the wrist and dragged him to Grant's tent.

_ Grant, buddy, time to wake up and fucking do something. _

**I have been awake ever since you heard that scream and I'm not sure I actually can do anything.** _ _

_ Well shit, we're screwed. _

Pulling Klaus into the tent and checking to see that everyone had dispersed, Steve shoved him down onto the bed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Klaus scowled. "Does  _ I'd follow you to the moon _ mean absolutely nothing to you? It means that I'd literally follow you to the moon to keep you from doing dumb shit like running off! Do you have any idea how long it took me to figure out where the hell you went? I stole someone else's mission and a military issued vehicle to get my ass over here as soon as possible and the second I walked into the camp, you have a gun to your head!"

Steve frowned. "I had a good god damn reason." An unwanted swell of emotions threatened to make his voice crack, but he swallowed them back forcefully.

"And what's that? What kind of excuse are you going to pull out of your ass this time for leaving me behind?" Klaus got right into Steve's space, daring him to step backwards, flaming hazel eyes staring right into him. "Or were you just going to ignore whatever the hell was going on like usual, abandoning me again so you can do god knows what?"

Steve took a large breath, trying to hold back the tears picking at the back of his eyes.

_ Grant, I really need you to stop getting so emotional about this or I'm going to start crying in front of the guy you like. _

**Sorry, just give me a minute.**

Suddenly, Steve felt himself being shoved backwards mentally and he was back in the apartment that he had shared with Bucky, Grant somehow taking over. 

Klaus glared at Grant with barley contained anger. "Tell me. Give me a reason."

Grant took a deep breath and looked Klaus right in his beautiful hazel eyes, trying to gather the nerve to say what he needed to as years and years of pent up emotions threatened to push over the edge. "I couldn't stay there knowing."

Klaus flinched a little, backing up a few steps as his face fell. "Oh."

"I couldn't stay there, having to see you every single day and knowing exactly what was going on, I couldn't stand being there, not when I would have been forced to watch you drift away farther every day. Klaus, it would have been torture." Grant pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to send colors dancing through his vision, but it didn't stop the wetness clouding his eyes. "You were right. About everything that I heard. I would have been mad at you for lying, I still am pretty mad, but dear god I can't be close to you when I know that you're going to slip through my fingers and that hurts. That hurts so, so, so much and I just CAN'T!"

"Grant, please just let me explain, I'm not going to leave you." Klaus's eyes softened, realizing the mistake that had been made.

"You don't have a choice! Nobody knows when they're going to die and I can't be there, watching as you get weaker and eventually die because if I did, I'd probably end up dying myself." Soft sobs filled the quiet tent as Grant tried to hold them back, failing as tears ran down his cheeks. "You can't die on me again! I can't sit in some hospital chair holding your hand and pouring out all of my secrets to you as I can feel your pulse weaken under my fingertips. I don't know if I'll be able to save you this time and I don't know what the hell I could ever do without you."

Klaus sighed softly, closing the distance and wrapping Grant up in his arms, pulling him in tight. "You misunderstood Grant. I'm not leaving you. Ever. Astrid was just being an idiot and you heard a bad part of a much longer conversation." He slowly moved his fingers through Grant's hair and rubbed his back while holding the sobbing blonde close to his chest. "I'm not dying. I'll never leave you alone. I'm going to stay right here by your side and hold onto you forever because I lo- care for you."

Grant laughed between sobs as he clung to Klaus like a little kid, relieved, but unable to control the emotions that were still overwhelming him. "I- I guess th- that I really got i- it wrong this time. I guess this is wha- at I get for not talking to you ab- bout it first." Grant bit his lip, trying to stem the emotions, but he couldn't stop the quiet sobs escaping past his lips. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, shh. Shh. It's going to be fine, you don't have to apologize for crying. It's completely normal to cry when you get over emotional." Klaus pulled Grant tighter, resting his chin on the blonde's shoulder and tilting his head to rest on Grant's.

"That's not what I'm apologizing for." The memories of Klaus's hospital stay were caught in the front of his mind, the constant pain and desperate sadness mirroring the memories.

Klaus faltered a bit before hugging Grant tighter yet again and holding him there silently. After a few minutes of silence, Klaus spoke in barley a whisper. "Don't worry. I forgive you for all of it. Every single little thing. I don't need to hear you explain anything or even an apology for… what you did. It's okay now, everything's okay."

Grant sniffed quietly, feeling his stomach drop to his feet as he shuddered lightly. Klaus had remembered, which means that years and years of secrets just came undone, pieces were being put into place after missing since the puzzle was created, and everything was most likely going to go to shit. So many things were going to be different now that Klaus knew all of the things that Grant had been trying to keep secret. What would happen to the two of them? Would their friendship be ruined just because of a mistake, or would it be ripped apart because of all the lies and distrust? "Does that mean you remember everything I told you when you were dying?"

Klaus nodded once. "I thought it was some sort of sick dream or hallucination. I thought I had made it all up as some sort of messed up explanation to why you were so distant, but I guess it wasn't as made up as I previously believed."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. I'm a horrible person and I will never be able to make up for all of my mistakes. I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Grant felt a fresh wave of tears fall down his cheeks, trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince Klaus. 

"You don't have to keep saying that you're sorry. I already forgave you." Klaus wrapped his fingers in Grant's hair and pulled himself back a bit to look the crying man in the eyes, wiping away a few tears with his thumb.

"But why? I'm not a good person. I did all of that to you and you still forgive me? Why?" Grant sniffed, looking down at his shoes.

Klaus looked Grant right in the eyes, moving both of his hands to cup the blonde's cheeks and wiped away the tears with his thumbs. Grant lightly grabbed Klaus's wrists, trying to pull them away, but Klaus kept his hands on the wet cheeks in front of him, leaning close. "I forgave you because I wanted to. And now that I know how you feel about me, you don't have to feel guilty for kissing me without permission." Klaus leaned the rest of the way forward, closing the distance between the two of them and pressing a soft kiss onto Grant's lips for a few seconds, moving his hands slowly down his neck to rest on his collarbone. 

Shocked, Grant smiled a bit and just stood there as his brain stopped. "Do you have everything I said back then memorized?"

Klaus nodded. "Permanently committed to memory. It was pretty hard to forget." 

Grant let his hands fall to his sides, hesitant to reach out those few inches and touch the man in front of him, but when he first brushed up against fabric and the brunette didn't pull away, he slowly flattened his hands on Klaus's torso. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you felt like this. I had convinced myself years ago that it could never happen and I guess I was just blind when it actually did." Grant looked down at his hands and slowly moved them to rest on Klaus's hips gently, trying not to overstep any boundaries that he might accidentally pass. "I was- were you ever going to tell me?"

"I was. Once." Klaus tilted Grant's head back up to look him in the eyes. "Right before Annah kissed you."

Grant let a small smile play on his lips as he almost started crying again before he took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Can I kiss you? Please?"

Klaus nodded. "You don't have to ask." 

Grant look his hands off of Klaus's hips, pulling them back quickly and tucking them under his armpits. "Yes I do. I don't want to… I mean, I want to kiss you, I just… I'm not…"

Klaus pressed his lips onto Grant's again, just a little bit harder, and pulled back before he could think to return the kiss. "I get it. You aren't comfortable yet. It's okay if you ask, I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to. I know what it feels like not to be ready for something."

Grant looked into Klaus's stunning eyes, looking for anything that might indicate some sort of joke, but he found nothing. "Can I kiss you?"

Klaus nodded. "Yes."

Slowly, Grant moved his hands out of their prison and placed them gently on Klaus's face, looking into the patient eyes that waited for him. Klaus trailed his hands down Grant's front, causing him to shudder, before wrapping them around the blonde's waist to pull him closer. One last look to Klaus's face confirmed that what Grant was doing was alright, before bending his head down a few inches to connect with soft lips that felt exactly like he thought they would. A few rough edges and dry skin, but soft and moveable and amazing. He practically fell into the slow kiss as he felt Klaus's heartbeat slamming against his fingertips, a strange feeling against his mouth as his lips moved against Klaus's in wet pushes and shuddering breaths. Everything was perfect and exactly how he wanted it as his hands were allowed to move freely to brush against Klaus's face, tangle in his hair, drag against the skin of his neck, or wrap around his shoulders. Then they pulled away, only a few inches apart, and Grant smiled genuinely at Klaus, the brunette flushing softly as he bit his lip. Grant laughed softly, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen into Klaus's eyes. "That was- " He struggled to find the words to describe it.

"Breathtaking?" Klaus grinned sheepishly, moving his hand over Grant's chest slowly in a small gesture of affection.

"Yeah." Grant smiled wider. "Absolutely breathtaking." 

"Captain Rogers?" Grant shoved Klaus away sharply as he heard the voice of a child at the entrance to the tent. He looked over to the tent flap, seeing one of the fourteen or fifteen year old boys standing there with an unamused expression on his face. 

Grant turned just a little red. "How long were you there?"

The boy shrugged. "Long enough. Now if your done making out with your husband, we sort of need someone to teach the class."

Grant dropped to crouch into a ball, trying to disappear completely as his face turned a dark shade of red. Groaning, he looked up at Klaus who had been knocked into the bed and was struggling not to laugh his ass off. "Fine. I'll be there in a minute. What's your name?" 

"Curt Blanche, sir." The boy nodded respectfully.

Grant stood up, calming the fire on his cheeks and smiling at the boy before turning to Klaus and mumbling a bit. "A little Cock Block is what you are."

"Grant Rogers!" Klaus looked at him with a mixture of horror and laughter. "He's a child! Watch what you say!"

Curt smiled though, trying not to laugh himself. "Don't worry sir, my fathers used to joke about that as well. I'm sure that it's how I got my name." 

Grant laughed a bit before rolling his eyes. "Go back to your class and tell them I said you are in charge until I get there." Curt nodded and walked out of the tent to leave the two adults alone. Grant moved to sit down next to Klaus, sheepishly touching the brunette's hand briefly and smiling. "Just my luck that one of the kids walked in. The only one with the guts to poke fun at me too." He sighed, looking up at the spinning glass attached to a bare lightbulb above his head. "I'm sure he won't tell anyone what he saw. He mentioned his fathers, so I'm guessing he knows how to keep a secret."

Klaus nodded. "At least you won't be alone to deal with it." Grant looked at him confused, and Klaus raised his eyebrows. "I told you that I stole someone else's mission. I'm stuck here for the rest of the four and a half months until I get transferred to the base in Austria."

Grant glared for a moment, something dawning on him. "Klaus, I swear to god, if you stole the mission of the doctor I sent for, I'm going to kill you. I don't know how to deal with bleeding girls."

Klaus chuckled nervously and started scooting away. "Oops?"

"KLAUS LOUIS POTTS!" Grant lunged for the brunette's neck and Klaus started running from the fury of his best friend. Grant cornered the man after a few moments of attempting to catch him, and pinned him to the ground with his wrists slammed down into the grass and Grant straddling his waist.

Klaus smirked. "You're going to take me to dinner first, right?" 

Grant paled, vomit and self hatred bubbling up in his throat as he quickly threw himself away and shoved himself as far from Klaus as the tent would allow. He grabbed his shaking hands, the spinning terror in his head threatening to make him pass out as the bile filled his mouth until he swallowed it back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I didn't think. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Oh shit." Klaus sat up and pushed his hands through his hair, guilt and fear clear in his eyes. "Sorry Grant, I wasn't thinking." He rubbed his face, probably talking to himself. "How bad is… this? God, I've fucked him up. What do I do? Is it just that he feels guilty? Did he mentally scar himself or something?" In the end, Klaus just sat down next to Grant, not touching him or anything.

"I'm sorry." Grant forced the panic out of his mind and built up the courage to look at Klaus after a few seconds. "I'm just a mess right now. Sort of the opposite of someone you want to have in a healthy relationship."

Klaus smiled softly, testing the waters as he slid his hand into Grant's. "Are we part of a relationship?"

Grant put his head on his bent knees, staring into Klaus's eyes with open affection. "If you want to be, we could be part of a relationship. We would have to work on the healthy part though."

Klaus mimicked Grant's movements with a smile. "I would like that a lot."

Grant grinned, then it changed into a playful smirk. "If I don't get out here soon, little Cock Block is going to come back."

Klaus slapped his arm lightly. "Don't start calling him that. That's a giant No."

Grant smirked. Like hell Klaus wouldn't be saying it too if he wasn't supposed to appear so responsible. He was in no way an angel and there was no universe where Grant wouldn't remind him of that fact. "Alright Angel, but don't pretend that you haven't been calling him that in your head this whole time."

Klaus scowled, caught in his secretive thinking. "Just put some clothes on so you can go teach your class."

Grant snickered before wincing when Klaus elbowed him in the side. "Ow." He looked down at a long gash on his side where he had gotten shot and it was surprisingly a lot deeper that he thought. "No wonder I almost passed out." Grant shrugged. "Extra lesson in field medicine."

Klaus glared at him. "Just like you to turn a bullet wound into some sort of game."

Grant just shrugged and stood up. Now that he had noticed the gash, the pain was really getting to him and so was the blood loss. "Do you mind cleaning up in here?" Grant gestured to the blood covering the bed and blankets. "I've got to get this stitched up."

Klaus nodded. "Yeah, you go get that taken care of."

Grant walked out of the tent, calling back over his shoulder to Klaus. "See you in a bit Angel."

"Get lost you grease weasel!"

Grant snickered while walking towards the mess hall where he knew all of the kids and new recruits were gathered for breakfast.

**Hey, do you want to switch back? Sorry for shoving you out earlier, it was an accident.**

_ Why? Don't you want to have your body back. _

**Nah, maybe when I'm done exploring your apartment and walking around Avengers Tower.**

_ How did you get to Avengers Tower? _

**There's a door in your hallway that leads into your room there. Pretty crazy and super cool.**

_ I think you're picking up too much slang from the 2000s.  _

**Nah. I just can't believe you haven't watched Star Wars yet.**

_ How do you know what Star Wars is? _

**I don't, it's just something that Tony says in your memories a lot. It seems pretty awesome.**

_ You only know that it has laser swords in it. Don't you? _

**Yup. I don't even know what they are called.**

_ Neither do I.  _

**So, you didn't answer my question yet. Do you want to take over?**

_ You just don't want to deal with teaching kids. _

**You know me too well Steven.**

_ I basically am you right now. _

**Touché. **

_ Alright. Tap out. _

**You got it Mr. Captain America, sir.**

_ Never again. _

**You can't legally stop me. This is discrimination.**

_ I swear to god, I'm going to be really pissed if I figure out that you start some sort of war in the future. I wouldn't put it past you to start the Stonewall Riots. _

**What are those?**

_ Nothing. Please leave it be. _

**Nope. I know now. I'm going to start anything and everything I can.**

_ Just tap me in. _

Steve closed his eyes and felt a slight tug only to open them to see the camp instead on a worn down wall in Brooklyn. Without faltering, Steve kept walking towards the mess hall just as everyone finished their breakfast. The older trainees all got up to go to some sort of training with a different soldier and Steve walked towards the group of kids. He winced a little at the pain in his side, surprised that Grant's healing factor hadn't started working yet. Damn asgardian magic rune thing. Steve stepped up in front of the crowd and waited for them all to quiet. "Alright, first order of business, the boys are going to stay here while the girls and I go grab some things for a small demonstration of sorts. When you're on the battlefield, you will get hurt, so it's important for all of you to know exactly how to fix up a cut so it doesn't get infected or make you bleed out. Ladies, please follow me." Thirteen or fourteen girls got up and followed Steve to the medical tent, grabbing needles and thread with thin rubber pieces while Steve grabbed some actual medical supplies to treat his cut. All of the things were passed out when they got back to the mess hall and Steve came around to cut a slit lengthwise in each piece of rubber. Sitting on a table in front of the kids, he pulled his shirt up halfway, exposing the gash on his side right below his ribs and pointed at it. "Who knows how to take care of a bullet wound like this?"

One of the girls raised her hand and Steve pointed at her. "You have to clean it properly before stitching it up."

Steve smiled and grabbed a few bottles out of the medical case, placing them on the table. "What do I use?"

One of the younger boys raised his hand and Steve let him speak. "Far left bottle?"

Steve crossed his arms in an "X" shape. "Sorry, but you don't use cold medicine on an open wound." He picked up the bottle on the far right. "Use this one, you can recognize it by the clear pinkish color. Or that's just blood and it's actually just clear." He paused, studying it for a while before giving up. "Or you can just look at whatever the label says and go from there." Everyone snickered at that and Steve continued. “To properly clean the cut, you have to first rinse it out with water, wiping away excess blood with a cloth and then clean the cut with the antiseptic.” Steve followed his own instructions, cleaning the cut before picking up a needle and thread to stitch the wound closed. “Everyone should have a needle, thread, and a scrap of rubber or whatever it actually is. You want to have a length of thread a little longer than the cut so that you can tie it off easily and have enough room to stitch it closed.” Steve measured out a length of thread against the side of his cut to show everyone how long they should pull the string before cutting it. “You’ll want to knot one side of that thread as close to the base as possible, knotting it a couple times so it can’t slip through the hole you made. Then, you take the other side of the thread and slip it through the hole on the needle. I don’t know what the hole is called, so don’t ask.” A few chuckles came from the kids in front of him and Steve smiled a bit. “The last thing you want to do is pinch together the two sides of the cut on one end so that you can push the needle through one side of the cut and it comes out on the other side. Repeat the process as many times that are needed, always pushing the needle in the same way until the cut is closed and you can tie off the thread." Steve bit his lip silently as he stitched the bullet wound closed so that he wouldn't swear in front of thirty some children. That didn't stop him from yelling his thoughts to Grant.

_ SON OF A COCK SUCKING HELLSPAWN OF A WHORE! FUCKING BAG OF SHIT DICKS ON A STICK! BITCH! FUCK! GOD DAMN IT! ASS WIPE COLORED FUCK UP! JESUS CHRIST ON A BIKE! SON OF A HORSE ASSED SLUT! SHITTY ASS TWAT! CUNT SUCKING PRICK ON A DICK! SHIT ASS MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD! FUCKER WITH A GODDAMN CHAINSAW IN MOTHERFUCKING HELL! SUCK MY STAR SPANGLED BALLS! EAT SHEILD JESUS! EVERLOVING ASSHOLE! HOLY CRAP AND FUCKING GOD LEVEL SHITS!  _

**What the ever loving FUCK Steven?**

_ Oooooowwwwwww. Everything huuurts.  _

**And how the hell does cursing help?**

_ It doesn't but it's sure as hell fun and it makes me feel a lot better about the needle I have been shoving into my own side. _

**That makes no sense.**

_ It's a stress reliever. _

**Oh. Does it usually work?**

_ The more colorful the distraction, the easier it is to focus on literally anything other than the pain and stress. _

**You confuse me sometimes. Thanks for the new language to add to my growing future vocabulary though.**

_ Uhhhhhhhg. I hate everything. _

Steve finished patching himself up as he pulled on the knot a bit to make sure that it was secure and looked up at everyone who was practicing stitches on the rubber scraps in front of them. He pulled the shirt back down and watched as some of the boys struggled with such a simple task, proving that something like this shouldn't be confined to the female half of the population. He directed a few girls over to the struggling males to help them sort out their needle work and stared off into the distance, rubbing the stitches in his side lightly. There was still thirteen days until the kids had to go back into their respective towns, but Steve couldn't think of anything else to teach them that he hadn't already.

"Thinking about your husband Captain Rogers?" Steve didn't bother turning to face the boy who had come to sit by him.

"Not right now Curt. I'm just trying to figure out what to do with the rest of the time you all have here." Steve turned to look at the little boy, noticing how similar he looked to Natasha, and smiled a bit at the thought. "Do you have any ideas on what to do?"

Curt shook his head. "I'm not sure. You have already taught us everything except for using the weapons, but we won't learn that until we actually enlist to fight."

Steve sighed and crossed his legs, looking around the mess hall to see if anything poked at his inspiration. 

**Bucket. To your left.**

Steve looked to his left to see the bucket he had placed there earlier, confused at what Grant meant. It was just a stupid trick. A few of the boys had been trying to catch him off guard for weeks with pranks, but they had never succeeded. Then it dawned on him as a memory flashed in his head from Grant. It was Wilhem Rumlow getting soaked with water from a bucket that looked exactly like the one Steve was looking at right now. It was perfect. Steve was going to have to start a war. 

"Hey Curt? How would you like to learn about espionage?" Steve grinned at the small boy and watched as his eyes widened with bright excitement. "I'll take that as a yes."

“You are not teaching a kid how to stab other kids.” Klaus came around Steve’s other side to sit with them. “Even if it is your specialty.”

Steve rolled his eyes dramatically and ruffled Curt’s hair. “I’m not teaching him how to stab people Klaus. I’m teaching him useful things. Like how to be a little pain in the ass for some very important people.” Klaus snorted, not believing a word of what Steve was saying. “Come on Klaus, think of the uses. If I’m going to start a war in the camp, I need a little spy that can get in with the enemy.”

Klaus’s head snapped in Steve’s direction faster than he thought possible. “You’re doing WHAT now?

Steve grinned. “I’m starting a war.”

Klaus rubbed his temples and groaned. “Of course you’re going to start a war. I wouldn’t have expected anything different from you. Just don’t go sticking me in the middle of it.”

Steve chuckled. “Well, it’s too late for that now. I already have everything planned out.”

“You can’t just throw a whole entire camp filled with new recruits into the war Grant!” Klaus grabbed Steve’s arm, desperately trying to convince him to back down.

“I’m not throwing anyone into the war Klaus.” Steve patted Klaus’s hand gently. “I’m throwing everyone into a war of the minds here in the camp. Everyone participates. It will be good practice for them.”

Klaus’s face went pale. “Grant, you’re going to get someone killed.”

Steve laughed. “Relax Klaus, it’s just a prank war. Nothing harmful or lethal. It won’t even be much different from normal day to day life at this camp.”

Klaus’s eyes went wide as Curt laughed at his reaction. “What kind of chaos are you teaching? There was nothing like this when I went through basic training.”

Steve smiled mischievously. “That’s because you didn’t have anyone like me in charge of teaching you. Come on, we need to prepare for war.” Grabbing Klaus’s hand, Steve pulled his friend out of the mess hall, leaving Curt to sit alone on the table. "Curt's in charge while I'm gone!"

The two men ran back to the tent they had just left, and Steve quickly shimmied out of his bloody clothes and into one of the military uniforms in the closet while Klaus looked away politely. Steve then grabbed the brunette's hand again to pull him out of the tent and drag him to the opposite side of the camp where all of the new soldiers going through basic did their morning routine lead by their drill sergeant. Steve let go of Klaus's hand and tapped the drill sergeant on the shoulder, quickly and sharply. "I'm calling a meeting. I expect everyone in the camp reporting to the mess hall in ten minutes."

The drill sergeant looked at the blonde, aghast and in shock. "You don't have the authority to do that! Not over my soldiers at least."

"Who said that they were your soldiers?" Steve smirked. "Besides, in this camp, I can do whatever the hell I want to ass flap. For example, I could start a war." Smiling with a chaotic glint in his eyes, Steve ran back to Klaus, pulling him away eagerly to start preparing for the war yet to come. 

Steve pulled Klaus all over the camp, spreading the word about the meeting and introducing the brunette to everyone they passed. It was an interesting few minutes to say the least, but it couldn't compare to the meeting itself.

**You chaotic fucking bastard. I thought you were supposed to be the American Golden Boy.**

_ What can I say, you're corrupting me. _

**I have done no such thing.**

_ How else are we supposed to explain all of this then? _

**Tony Stark. Clint Barton. Natasha Romonaff. Bucky. Literally anyone else could be credited for corrupting your perfect streak.**

_ Bucky would have been proud of me if he ever figured out what I was doing to this camp.  _

**What? Destroying its order and ruining any chances that these kids have of living through this war?**

_ No. Teaching them how to survive and giving them a little bit of fun while they learn exactly what they need to learn. I don't think you understand how realistic things get for kids when they are put into the heart of the challenge. _

**Ah. I understand now. You're trying to recreate the feeling of a heated version of kick the can.**

_ Ummm. Sort of I guess. _

Steve had no idea what Grant meant, but if it worked for him, then it was completely fine. Running back to the mess hall to catch the end of his own surprise lesson, Steve plopped himself back onto the table in front of the last kids to finish up their stitches and watched silently, jittering in his seat so that he could announce what was going to happen. Once the last few kids were done, he collected everything and told Curt to take it back to the medical tent. Steve watched as more people trailed into the tent and he grinned at the confused look on their faces. When everyone was finally gathered, looking at Steve expectantly, he stood up on the table and everything fell silent. "I suspect that all of you are wondering why I have gathered you here. Well, I shall answer you, but first, this is my partner in crime, Sergeant Klaus Potts. He will be with us, helping around the camp for the rest of your basic training." Klaus stood up from where he was seated, waving to the crowd quickly before sitting down again. "Thank you Sergeant Potts. Now back to the question everyone has. Why are we here? Two words, multiple teams, prize for the winners. Prank war." Steve heard the whole mess hall filled with people gasp and erupt into questions and shouts from multiple directions, the new soldiers going through basic freaking out with shouts of success. "You can thank whoever keeps putting buckets of freezing water around the camp to catch me off guard for the idea." Steve heard shouts of 'Me! I did that!' but he didn't bother turning to see who it was since he already knew. "Rules are pretty simple. Nothing lethal or harmful or anything that could make someone sick. Innocent, good natured pranks only. No pranks should happen in the sleeping tents and if I find anything wrong with someone's food or any bodily releases, the whole team responsible will be disqualified. Battles during training are to be expected and are technically allowed as long as none of the weapons you use are hurtful. You can use slimes, powders, gasses, slingshots, things that give off a nasty smell, anything as long as things don't get physical or start hurting people. Neutral zones where no pranks are allowed are the mess hall, bathrooms, showers, sleeping tents, and a twenty foot radius around the medical tent because hitting the enemy while their down is just a real bastard move. There will be three groups of twenty six, all of them will have an almost equal amount of officers, soldiers, and trainees in each group to even out the available resources and minds. You will be given two days to prepare basic weapons and ammunition for the oncoming battles so that nobody is left behind in the war or unguarded in the attacks. You will be expected to do everything that happens in a normal war, so I want you to betray, infiltrate, switch sides, collect information, double cross, anything to keep your side surviving. I will know which side everyone is actually on the whole time this war plays out so that I can keep track of points, so don't worry about my involvement. Each team's area will be marked by ropes in the woods and as the borders are taken, the ropes will be moved. Nothing happens after dinner, the war is called off, enemies go back to being friends, spies stop spying, nothing about grudges or pranks happen anywhere, but everything can be picked back up in the morning."

One of the trainees raised her hand, looking over to the only female officer in camp with an uncomfortable look, then put her hand down with a blush. The female officer caught on immediately though. "What about certain people with the inability to participate?"

Steve smiled softly. "I'm actually glad you asked that question. There is a sort of different type of rule for the ladies in training to be army nurses. They will be part of specific teams, but unless they directly want to be part of the war, they will just help out with the tricked victims. If you have the inability to participate though," Steve looked over to where the ten or so girls were all gathered, "there will be a certain area in the medical tent during the day where you will be able to stay away from the war and have the ability to… recover. If you want." Steve knew that it meant dealing with periods, but he wanted the girls to have a place to safely have cramps and cry if it came to that with nobody else around to see or hear. He turned to the female officer with a smile. "Lieutenant Ward will also be available to help if you ask her." Daisy Ward quickly nodded her head with a respectful smile. "Any more questions?"

One of the new soldiers raised his hand. "I have one sir." Steve nodded at the boy. "Well, how do we collect points?"

Steve rubbed his chin. "It's really just based on the level of the prank and how many people it hits. It depends on weather or not you take them off guard, how effective it is, what they did to retaliate, what rank they are, things like that. The ranks are kept to you and your team and the points given are based off of your level in your army."

"The officers in charge of each team will be Lieutenant Ward and Sergeant Potts with team 1A, Sergeant Brecker and Sergeant Fischer with team 2B, and Lieutenant Weber and Sergeant Meyer with team 3C. When dismissed, team 1A will meet in the mess hall, 2B behind the armory, and 3C behind the men's quarters. You will have time to discuss weapons, plans, pranks, and the ranks of your crew. Remember, the higher their rank, the more points they are worth when they are caught." Steve hopped off of the table, silently sorting everyone to have the most equal chances based on what Steve knew about them. He moved around, whispering the group they belonged to into their ear before moving on to someone else. He repeated the process until everyone belonged to a group and he returned to the table he stood on. "Alright, everyone stand up, exit the mess hall, then walk to your meeting places so it isn't completely obvious who is on what team." Everyone did as he said and thirty seconds later, Klaus's team started walking back in.

Curt automatically sat back down next to Klaus and the two started talking strategy as more people sat down next to them, devising plans to figure out if any spies try to join them when they jumped into the conversation. They spoke about all sorts of things from how to weaponize onion fumes to what to build slingshots from, eventually figuring out the tactical advantages of keeping a very low command unit in charge instead of trying to claim the title of General or Lieutenant Major. Steve walked around to the other groups, listening in to their plans as they debated the uses and risks of honey trails with the more harmless bugs around, but also bigger animals like foxes and wolves that also liked honey. Steve said that it was up to them to test the risks, see if the danger was too risky to accidentally harm someone or possibly get them hurt by wild animals. They eventually decided that honey trails were not a good idea, but planting honey on different places touched by the enemy would affect the most people and cause the level of chaos needed to make a big splash into the war. It wouldn't really lead in any big animals, but it would make everything sticky. Steve knew that it would probably backfire, but it was up to them to figure it out in the next few days. The last group had already started collecting different things to help build these big spoon like things that could be used to throw ammunition. They were leaning towards more solid things like soap lather and slime bombs instead of onion fumes and mass wipe out by honey. Steve walked through all of the teams, writing down a list of all of the members and what their ranks were so that he could keep track of the progress on paper. He also took notes of the weapons and pranks they came up with so that he would know how many points to score and to what team the victory would go to if a mass destruction prank succeeded without also affecting the team that set it off. It was a pretty big list of things attached to one clipboard as he often stopped one of the team members for a bit to ask more questions, but it was incredibly thorough and all coded so that nobody could figure it out if they got their hands on it. After the whole day of planning, building, tinkering around, and bonding with teammates, all three teams were almost ready, but they still had a day left and Steve was looking forward to what kind of advancements would be made in another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that happened. It always seems in books that something like this would get crazy and emotional only to end up with one of them leaving while sobbing, but that's not what happens here. Turns out Klaus had been actually processing this since he was a teenager and he knows that he forgives Grant, even if the poor boy mentally scared himself for the rest of his life and probably won't touch Klaus intimately for forever and a half. That's where Steve comes in being the good, encouraging older twin brother that he is. Let's hear a big yay for Steve shall we? Also, in the next chapter, Klaus becomes a competitive little gremlin and possibly gets a hold of something he shouldn't.


	10. It was perfect. Then it was a Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO WANTS A SELF HATRED CHAPTER!!!
> 
> WRITTEN PURELY ON SAD SONGS AND SELF HATRED, THIS CHAPTER HAS CONTENT THAT MADE THE WRITER CRY FOR AN HOUR OR TWO BECAUSE HE'S APPARENTLY FUCKING DEAD ON THE INSIDE.
> 
> So, obviously this chapter is about Grant. As you can tell. Anything centered around anything having to do with Grant or Klaus is literally just a major self hatred chapter. It's honestly just 100% of Grant's self worth issues and panic/anxiety attacks and/or major PTSD that he caused himself. Literally, he drove himself to suicide out of guilt as a kid, he's going to have at least some PTSD. So there's a big warning about how horrible his brain really is. It's fucked up beyond repair and really needs some work. 
> 
> Another warning. PTSD and panic attacks. Blood. Murder. Suicide. Sex. Whatever any of this is. (Not totally true warnings, but close.)

"You know, I always thought you knowing would have turned out differently." Grant was laying on his cot with his back to Klaus. 

Klaus just leaned up blinking tiredly, grunting softly as he flopped back down onto the bed. "What do you mean?"

Grant sighed quietly. "I always thought that I was going to be alone while dealing with you knowing. I thought that you would hate me for what I did, be really mad at me or something, knowing exactly just how much it would hurt me when you left and doing it anyway because you didn't care about me anymore."

Klaus lightly touched Grant's arm, scooting a little closer, but not enough to press the front of his body to the blonde's back. "Of course I'm fucking mad at you Grant. You took advantage of me when I was drunk for the first time in my life and you didn't even tell me. It makes me mad that you would do that but I'm not going to leave you because I know how sorry you are. I know how much guilt you feel and it actually scares me sometimes knowing that you held all of that inside of you since you were fourteen. I don't think you even know how much you've hurt yourself over something that doesn't matter to me right now. Sure, you did it without my consent, but it was you and I'm glad that it was you and not some random girl that I don't remember the name of."

Grant turned to look into the hazel eyes bright with the last bit of light fading from the tent. "How could you say that? Do you even know what I did to you? I don't deserve any forgiveness."

Klaus frowned, propping himself up on the pillow to lift himself into a half up position. "I said that because it's true, and I'm pretty sure that it's clear that you raped me. I know what you did and I don't care how much I love you, if I didn't actually forgive you, I would have probably shot you in the leg and left the second you started bleeding from it. Believe it or not, I have had a lot of time thinking about this ever since I started entertaining the idea that the fucked up dream wasn't as much of a dream as I thought. I've known that whatever the truth was, I would make sure to think about it before I decided if I was going to forgive your actions or take off your testicles."

Grant snickered a bit, smiling up at Klaus with relief on his face. "Are you sure that the fact that you love me had nothing to do with it?"

Klaus scoffed. "Bullshit. Love is no reason to forgive anyone. It just opens up a bigger chance that things can be talked out or solved. It's silly to think that love could possibly be a reason. I mean, just because I love you doesn't mean I forgive you for keeping this from me, causing our whole damn friendship to fall apart, then leaving me alone to get drunk and high for four whole months. I know that it was technically my responsibility to keep myself sober, but I was a kid and had no idea how to deal with the feelings that I was having about you, but you left me to do all of that alone and it was sort of shitty of you to leave me in the first place."

Grant brushed a gentle thumb over Klaus's jaw quickly, trying not to pull himself away from the small touch of affection. "You're completely right. It was shitty. Maybe one day we could work on getting through that together because it was a time where I hurt both of us and I would like to fix it." He quickly pulled his hand away, fear getting the better or him as he moved away a bit so he didn't touch Klaus and make him uncomfortable. "I want to work on fixing these things with you. Work on fixing us."

Klaus reached out gently, taking Grant's hand and slowly moving it towards his chest. "I want that too, but we need to figure out how first." The blonde froze just a few centimeters from touching Klaus's chest, going completely rigid and pulling his hand away instinctively, being stopped by the brunette's firm grip. "It's okay to touch me. You aren't going to hurt me or run me off." Klaus moved forward, causing Grant's stiff hand to come in contact with his chest and tangling their feet together. "I want this. I want you to touch me like this. I want you to touch me anywhere you want and not feel afraid."

They locked eyes as Grant relaxed the stiffness in his shoulders and arms. "Klaus. Can I kiss you please." Klaus nodded and Grant moved forward, gently pressing his hand over the heart that pumps blood through the man he loves more than anything and connected their lips. The feeling was weird. Really, really weird, but it was far outweighed by the tingling sensation that swarmed through his brain and the warm wetness covering his mouth. Slowly, he got onto his hands and knees on top of Klaus without breaking the kiss and just rubbed his hands slowly over the curves and dips of the brunette's chest, tracing the lines through the fabric with his fingers. Grant dragged his fingers down Klaus's chest, using his thumbs to press the crease under the other man's pecs, dragging his fingers over the chest in front of him slowly and firmly.

Klaus brought his hands up to Grant's cheeks, pulling away a bit to catch his breath before smiling. "You know, this would feel a lot better for both of us if more clothing was off."

Grant smiled softly at the man underneath him, kissing the lips that were beautifully pink and wet as he pulled a little at the hem of Klaus's shirt. "Can this go then?" Klaus wasted no time talking as he pulled the shirt over his head eagerly and started kissing Grant again, twisting his nimble fingers into the short blonde hair and pulling on Grant's waist. The blonde hesitated, pushing against the hand that drew him in, but slowly lowered himself down a bit, still hesitant to touch the bare chest below him with anything but the lightest brushes of his fingertips. He wanted this, he really wanted all of this, but the fear and panic was threatening to choke him again as it clawed at his throat, so he pulled back quickly.

Klaus looked up, surprised at the sudden movement and blinked a couple times. "Grant? What's wrong? Did I do something that you didn't want?"

Grant shook his head, trying to chase away the panic as he sat up, just wanting to run away. "No. You're fine." He struggled to get air into his lungs as the fear squeezed harder, refusing to let go. "It was good. I liked it." Tears welled up in his eyes as his brain screamed at him to get away. "I wanted it. I really do want it. I just- kiss me. Please kiss me."

Klaus sat up too, worry and fear in his eyes. "What? No, I'm not going to kiss you! What's going o-" Klaus was cut off immediately when Grant's lips were shoved messily onto his. 

It felt so damn right, but Grant couldn't breathe and his whole body was shaking with fear and pain. 

He was fucking up again. 

The Mistake all over. 

Fuck up. 

Fuck up. 

Fuck up. 

Fuck up. 

Fuck up. 

He had to do this. 

He had to do this for Klaus. 

Klaus wanted it this time so what was wrong? 

One of his hands was on the back of Klaus's neck, but the other one was attached to his own leg. 

There was blood. 

Why was there blood? 

Everything hurt. 

There was blood. 

Blood on his hand. 

Blood on his leg. 

Blood on his pants. 

Blood on his bed. 

There was blood everywhere, but he couldn't care any less because he was kissing Klaus. 

He was fucking up. 

The Mistake. 

The fucking Mistake. 

He was making a Mistake. 

Fuck. 

Klaus didn't want it. 

He made another Mistake. 

He was kissing Klaus and Klaus didn't want it. 

It was a Mistake. 

A big Mistake. 

Klaus was pushing him away. 

It was a Mistake. 

Klaus was going to hate him. 

He had done something unforgivable again. 

He made another Mistake. 

Shit. 

Fuck. 

Sorry. 

Just a Mistake. 

Klaus was pushing his arms away. 

It was a Mistake. 

He had made a Mistake. 

He was sorry. 

So sorry. 

So much blood. 

His leg hurt whenever Klaus pushed his arm. 

Everything was swirling in his head. 

Mistake. 

Mistake. 

Mistake. 

Mistake. 

Mistake. 

Mistake. 

Mistake. 

MistaKE. 

MISTAKE. 

MISTAKE. 

MISTAKE. 

MISTAKE. 

MISTAKE. 

MISTAKE. 

SHIT. 

SHIT. 

FUCK. 

SHIT. 

SORRY. 

SORRY. 

SORRY. 

SORRY. 

SORRY. 

SORRY. 

He ran. 

The fear hurt. 

Everything hurt. 

His leg hurt. 

He could hear Klaus. 

He couldn't stop. 

He ran. 

He ran away. 

He made a Mistake. 

A big Mistake. 

A very bad Mistake. 

He kept fucking up. 

He kept messing everything up. 

He just kept running and running. 

He fell and ran again. 

Everything was cold. 

He was so cold. 

He kept running. 

He ran from the pain. 

Ran from the fear. 

Ran from Klaus. 

Ran from his Mistakes.

It had been good.

Five days.

They had five days.

And he had to go fuck it up.

He made a Mistake.

There was blood.

He hurt Klaus.

He loved Klaus.

HE HURT KLAUS.

KLAUS WAS HURT.

HE HURT KLAUS.

KLAUS WAS BLEEDING.

HE HURT KLAUS.

IT WAS HIS FAULT.

BIG MISTAKE.

GIANT MISTAKE.

HE HURT KLAUS.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

** HE **

NO.

NO.

NO.

** HURT **

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

** KLAUS **

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO.

NO!

Then, Grant Steven Rogers felt the ground disappear and he fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. I hate myself sometimes when writing.


	11. Waiting for rescue and telling stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter contains some very sensitive topics. Also known as self harm and torture. Erskine is also a bitch. Bucky is baby Russian. Natalia is also baby Russian. As I said before, Russians are gay. (To some extent)
> 
> Sort of filler chapter.

Grant opened his eyes slowly, a ringing in his ears and a bright light shining directly into his eyes.

_ Grant? Grant. Are you awake? It's me Steve. Your brother. Are you okay? _

Grant groaned, trying to raise his hand to block whatever the hell was shining on his face but failing. "Stevnrn?" His voice was slurred and heavy, barley sounding like words. "Wher'r you? Whah happnd?"

_ Oh shit. Don't worry Grant, you're going to be fine. I think you might have a concussion or something. _

Grant shook his head slowly, pain flaring up whenever he so much as breathed. "Klas. Klas. I hur im. I hur Klas." He tried to sit up through the pain, but almost vomited the second he moved his fingers. "Blood. I… he… blood."

_ Klaus if fine. It was your blood. I couldn't get through to you when your attack started, but I remember that you started freaking out and when you kissed Klaus, you basically tried to rip the skin of your leg off. It was disturbing, but you were sort of freaking out and you didn't know what you were doing. _

Grant sighed lightly, nearly passing out from that one small movement. "Hwl lng." Grant just stopped talking, his mouth feeling like there was a fucking teddy bear shoved into it.

**How long have we been gone?**

_ A few hours at the most. The moon is really fucking pissing me off though. It's really bright and I can literally see it through your eyelids. _

**That's what the bastard ass light it. The fucking moon.**

_ Yeah. The fucking moon. I've been trying to wake you up since you fell, but I was starting to think that I lost you when you didn't come back to this apartment place thing. Sort of terrifying to think about. Losing a brother you didn't really know you had. _

**That must have felt like shit. Sorry Steven. So tell me exactly what happened.**

_ Well, we switched out so that you could sleep with Klaus next to you like for the last few nights, but then you two started talking. There were a lot of things that sounded really profound in a "I'm going to rip off your dick" sort of way, but then you asked if you could kiss him. He said yes, because of course he would, and you were fine until he took off his shirt. Then you started panicking and when I tried stopping it, I was blocked from your mind. You tried kissing him again, but your mind went insane with the thoughts about what happened back when you were fourteen. You kept on repeating stuff about the Mistake. So, when Klaus pushed you away and noticed what you were doing to your own leg -bad idea with the whole super strength thing by the way- you thought he hated you. You ran, made sense at the time because of his scared you were, and eventually ran until you fell off of this fucking cliff. Now, we're here and in a lot of pain. _

**Well shit.**

_ You can say that again. _

**I feel like I'm just being played with for the amusement of someone that's taking out all of the emotional trauma of their childhood on me.**

_ That's weirdly specific, but okay. I have no clue where that came from. _

**Me neither. Anyways… how are we getting back to camp?**

_ We aren't. _

**What do you mean?**

_ Try moving your toes. _

Grant tried moving his toes, but pain moved through his whole body so sharply that he nearly screamed, that movement also causing unbearable pain. It was a vicious cycle for a few minutes, gasping from the pain of moving his body during the previous gasp, but he eventually managed to stop gasping.

**What the hell Steven? Why didn't you just say "Hey, there is no way in hell we are walking through this pain, so sit back and relax until our healing starts to help."**

_ Would you have listened to me if I told you not to move? _

**Of course not- oh. Nevermind.**

_ Exactly. _

**What are we going to do Steven?**

_ I don't know. I'm sorry. I just don't know. _

There were a few minutes of silence where Grant drifted in and out of consciousness until he fully blacked out again, ending up back in the Brooklyn apartment with Steve. "Hey."

Steve looked up, eyes puffy and watering. "You shouldn't be here. It could be dangerous for you to black out, your body could die. We don't know how any of this works."

Grant shrugged. "Too late now." He fell silent for a few moments, looking around the apartment he had explored top to bottom. "Tell me about Bucky?"

Steve snorted. "Only of you tell me about what was in the journal." After journal Grant had been hired by Hydra and worked with the scientists and strategists for a while, there was a point where real Grant stopped Steve from reading further.

Grant shifted around for a while, making his way over to sitting on the kitchen table. "Fine." Pulling his legs up, he made himself comfortable. "You had reached a part on the journal that I didn't want you to see because it was when my Pa died. It was my first mission as a Hydra assassin and I was sent to kill my own father, so I had to go back home for a while. I told my family that I had been given a vacation for being a good soldier that had gotten into good graces with Senator Schmidt and they believed me easily. I had gotten good at lying to people. I didn't want to kill my Pa, but turns out I didn't have to. He was already dying from some kind of poisoning and he hadn't told anyone except for the family. I spent his last few days next to him as he told me stories of when I was a kid and how happy he was to have me as a son. That's when he gave me a picture of me as a baby with a woman that wasn't my Ma. You were in it too. He told me about how I was adopted, the only thing with me was the picture, and told me that I was actually an American baby. My original parents couldn't raise me, so they sent me to Germany with a friend of theirs. I believe you knew him. Doctor Erskine. I thought the man had died after giving me to my parents, but apparently not if he was back in America. Anyway, he died peacefully in his sleep and did all of the research I was able to find out what happened to you, but I didn't find anything. I still had a week or so left until I was supposed to go back to Schmidt, so I stayed at an army base just outside of town. I hadn't told Klaus I was in town, but I did slip a little note into the mailbox of an apartment he bought after I left. I knew that it was almost his birthday, so I was going to surprise him by taking him to dinner near the end of the week. It was just my luck that the one day I was working with the recruitment section to help out, Klaus walked through the doors to enlist. I was just sitting at my desk, letting in anyone with the proper files when he walked through the fucking door, slamming down the files. At first we didn't even know we were talking to each other…" Grant trailed off, letting a memory flash quickly.

\----------

Grant was sitting behind a desk with a man in front of him that looked in his twenties, skimming his files slowly before placing them into a basket to his left, waving through the man with no trouble as a lady in a nice pressed suit came to collect the file that Grant had just placed in the basket. He was just wearing a normal uniform that might have been a little tight around the biceps, but he had his hair pushed down by a baseball cap that hung low to cover his eyes if he looked down.

Before moving on, the lady smiled, leaning onto his desk lightly. "You know, I know I've seen you before."

Grant looked up at the blonde woman with a raised eyebrow. "Oh really. Where have you seen me? It couldn't be very often."

She grinned, leaning forward to tilt her breasts more in his direction. "I can't quite put my finger on it… wait. Yes I can." She smirked. "I've seen you in my dreams quite often."

Grant smiled politely, moving to take a file from another man that just walked it, skimming it over quickly as he talked to the woman. "Well, that must be a very impressive talent. Seeing people in your dreams before meeting them in real life."

She grinned, obviously loving this little game. "Well yes. I've seen a lot in my dreams about you. Have you seen anything about me in your dreams?"

Grant bit his lip to keep from brushing her away impolitely, then waved the man away, handing the woman the file. "Well, I might be able to see the future a bit when I'm about to have a very important life changing experience, but I haven't seen anything today. Sorry."

She pouted a bit, leaning her bosom closer to the uninterested face of Grant and batting her eyelashes. "Aww. That's really too bad." Then she turned to sit on his desk, leaning seductively while nearly shoving her breasts into his face. "I'm sure we could change that though. Hey. My name is Bridgette. I'm a secretary here." She held out her hand lightly for him to either shake or kiss, he couldn't actually tell.

Grant nearly groaned as he leaned around Bridgett to watch the bottom half if a man walk through the doors as he kept his head tilted down to avoid the breasts in his face. "Look, Miss Bridgette, you are very kind and incredibly polite, but I'm not who you think." 

He reached around her to take the file from the man, but she snatched it away, flipping it open and scanning the contents half heartedly. "You know, we can change that. We could always take some time to get to know each other and explore some new things. If you know what I mean."

Grant quickly grabbed the file and sighed, making a move to open it before Bridgette placed her hand heavily on the cover to stop him. "Please. Miss Bridgette, I'm not going to be here in a few days. I'm leaving to go back to my actual job, this is just where I've been placed until I'm called back to my base. It would do you no good to get attached to me with fear about my line of work."

Grant heard a quick angry mumble from the man about hurrying up and 'he had been waiting a year and a half' before Bridgette seductively raked her fingernails infer Grant's chin. "I know. All you soldiers and your dangerous fights on the front lines. We could just have a quick dinner tonight."

Grant was officially done with this infuriating woman, so he stood up and grabbed the file, finally getting the breasts out of his face. He had nothing against women, but he could never touch one like he wanted to touch a man. A very certain man. "Listen Bridgette, I have tried to be patient with you, but you really can't take a hint. I learned from a very important man by the name of Adolf Hitler a few weeks ago while having coffee with him that some people don't understand just how important being a personal assassin is. Obviously, you are one of those people. Now if you don't mind getting your womanly assets out of my face, I have a date tonight." Sure it wasn’t actually a date, but Bridgette didn’t need to know that.

Grant heard a very familiar laugh ring out in the small room he was set up in and looked up to see the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. "So it was you who left that note in my box! I didn't know it was a date or else I might have thought to wear something nicer today." Grant looked into hazel eyes and he lit up, ripping off his cap to see if it was interfering with his sight, but it wasn't.

"Klaus! I wasn't expecting to see you until later tonight!" Grant moved around the desk to quickly run over to Klaus, sending a blushing Bridgette running with a very confused grin on her face. "Look at you! You've grown taller and you have scruff! I have never seen you with any type of hair on your chin!" Grant looked up and down, placing his hands on Klaus's shoulders to keep himself from falling over. He was just dressed in trousers and a nice white short sleeved shirt, but it was tight against his muscle and  _ damn _ , did it give Grant something to look at. Klaus's face was much more sharp and strong than the last time he had seen the man and the stubble on his chin rubbed over the fingers Grant didn't know he was brushing over Klaus's cheek.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Grant. You have a beard and you're giant. I mean, look at you, a whole year and a half and you're already a man. How old are you? Twenty five? Twenty six?" Klaus had his mouth wide open in shock, but the only look in his eyes was awe.

Grant chuckled, leaving one hand on Klaus's shoulder as he dropped the other to his side. "Don't be mean Klaus. I'm only eighteen. Same as you. Always will be."

Klaus grinned something brilliant and let out an angelic laugh that Grant soaked up eagerly after almost two years without his best friend. "Dear lord Grant. You've only been in the army for a year and a half and you already have climbed up the food chain right to having coffee with Hitler. You didn't make that up did you? Please tell me you didn't because that would be fantastic to have coffee with him."

Grant shook his head with a proud smile. "For someone who broke the law to enlist, Hitler seems to appreciate all of that tactical finesse that Ma told me about my whole life. Can you believe that my mentor is actually Senator Johann Schmidt? It's amazing to work with him and I just completed my first official mission."

Klaus's eyes were wide and he was laughing in complete delight as Grant told him about military life as an extremely important player in the war. It was amazing to finally talk with Klaus again and Grant’s heart was going wild in his chest. “I’ve missed you so much Grant. I missed you being here.” Klaus bit his lip a bit to keep himself from releasing the world shattering grin that he was no doubt struggling to keep under wraps, his cheeks pink and eyes glittering with mischief.

The memory faded out as Grant wrapped Klaus up into a tight hug, his words filled with emotion. “I missed you too pal.”

\----------

Steve looked at Grant for a while as the assassin sat on the table, head in his hands as he took deep breaths to keep himself from crying. “I fucked everything up. I miss him and I want to be there with him, but I did something horrible.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, grabbing a chair and sitting down next to Grant instead of the usual place he sat by the wall. “I don’t think it’s as bad as you believe it to be. I know you think that he’s going to hate you because having anxiety can get to be really fucking horrible, but Klaus wants to be in a relationship with you. No matter how messed up and difficult it is for you both in the beginning, he loves you and just wants to help.” Steve rubbed Grant’s back softly comforting him. “I don’t think you messed up. Sure, you hurt yourself and tried dealing with your PTSD by shoving it away leading to a panic attack, but you didn’t mess up your relationship with Klaus.”

Grant shook his head. “Can we not? Let’s talk about something else. Like, after Klaus went through basic and became my partner or something like that?” He rubbed his temples, shaking away the panic that clawed up his throat with a couple deep breaths. Steve just nodded, not wanting Grant to have another panic attack inside of his own mind, so he stayed silent as Grant continued his story from earlier. “After Klaus was finished with his basic training, I asked Schmidt if he could shadow me and I could train him myself. Schmidt agreed as long as it did not interfere with any of my missions that I would be on. We ended up becoming partners in the field whenever I was stationed in an active war zone and, apologies to your American soldiers, we wiped out most of the soldiers that tried stopping us. We had a good run for a while as we took any mission given to us, but that quickly stopped when I found the Red Room.”

Steve scowled. “What happened?”

Grant shrugged nonchalantly and grinned. “It was generally new, recently founded at the time and only training older children. Not so much as brainwashing as convincing elite young women from around the world to join their little camp. They were already from talented families containing master spies and assassins, so it wasn't hard to warp their brains with a little electricity to their heads. It really was cruel how they had taken girls that were both older and younger than me and turned them into mindless puppets. After they sent Astrid to assassinate me, I brought her back to them unharmed and in one piece just to rub it into their faces that I was better than their best. I made a deal with the monsters that ran the place that I wouldn’t reveal them to all of the countries they had taken the women from, if I could stay and train with them. They agreed and I spent a lot of time there, never telling my superiors, but always telling Klaus where I was going. I never told him about the assassins that were sent to kill me just to see if it was possible, or the women that had their life taken away from them, but I did tell him that I started training with elites to gain more abilities to teach him. That’s where I met Astrid, Natalia, and Yvette. Sure, they didn’t actually have names in the Room, just numbers, but I decided to give every single girl in there a name since they didn’t remember their own and their files were destroyed to keep them under wraps.” Grant’s voice became sad and hurt then, the memories becoming painful. “I was becoming too close to all of them all and causing their carefully removed feelings to come back. I couldn’t save them. I was only able to free the three you know as the Birds, but otherwise, when I tried to help them escape, the rest were all killed for disobedience. I had caused seven women to be murdered just because I convinced them to escape with me instead of living the rest of their lives as mindless slaves. I don’t regret getting them out, but I do wish I could help more of them find happiness.” Grant smiled sadly at the floor. “Now, they are my family and I would give anything to tell them how much they mean to me one last time if I’m going to die at the bottom of a cliff.”

“You’re not going to die.” Steve patted his brother’s arm. “I promise we’ll find out a way to get out of here.”

Grant rolled his eyes overdramatically to get on Steve’s nerves. “I know that Steven. I was being dramatic. Obviously, not everyone was happy with the fact that I lied about being a part of an extremely secret enhanced spy group. Cough, cough, Shmidt and Hitler. So I was punished reasonably for technically betraying my country.”

Steve glared as he thought about what had happened and the three months missing from the files. “Reasonable punishing you is torturing you for three months?”

Grant scoffed. “Of course not, they shot me a few times before I could get away to write a note to Klaus just in case I died. They obviously tracked me back to my living quarters, but by then I had gotten Klaus just enough up to speed to protect the ladies from anyone who tried to harm them. He was much more than capable to do so, after all he knew everything I did. Only then was I finally dragged away and tortured around the clock for three months. I’m actually quite flattered at how advanced the techniques were that had been used on me.”

Steve looked at him with an unimpressed look on his face. “Only you would get horny for different types of tourture techniques Grant.”

Grant scoffed. “I said flattered. Not horny.”

Steve just rolled his eyes. “In the two months I’ve known you, I have gathered enough to know you meant something along the lines of horny or excited.”

Grant opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it. “In my defense, it wasn’t the torture but the knowledge of the man behind it. A smart man with a sense of humor is the same as smart man with a sense of humor that takes time to joke and flirt with you after getting tortured just to be nice.”

Steve chuckled. “Only you would try flirting with the man that was bringing you close to death every day.”

Grant just shrugged, a twinkle in his eyes. “Well he was very nice and even let me take a few days off every two weeks.” He winked at Steve slyly. “Let’s just say that those days were a lot of fun.”

“Uhhhg. Come on.” Steve groaned shoving Grant lightly. “I did not need to know how much sex you had with your prison guard.” 

Grant pursed his lips on a mocking pout. “You would have done the same if he was literally the only person you knew that was attracted to men. Also, I didn’t want to be the only virgin in the whole fucking army.”

Steve was shocked. “First of all, no I wouldn’t have. Secondly, what the fuck were you thinking having sex between being tortured. Lastly, I thought you dated Annah.”

Grant shrugged yet again, less of a twinkle in his eyes as sadness took over. “I was in a relationship with Annah, but I never touched her like that. Yes, because I still liked Klaus and I was interested in men, but also mainly because she was more of a sister to me than anything and there was no chance in hell I would be willing to actually kiss her more than the one time she kissed me.”

Steve nodded. “Oh. That makes sense actually.”

Grant grinned. “I think you might like the next part of the story though.”

Steve let out a little humming sound in mile acceptance. “Why’s that?”

“Just watch and you’ll see." Grant grinned and then his face fell to a pale white. "There is actually something you should know though about a little gap in your memory, so wait until the end."

\----------

Grant was fidgeting a bit, the suit he was wearing almost uncomfortable since it didn’t fit his large form correctly. He was on a mission, but he wasn’t nervous about that, he was nervous about seeing the woman behind the door he just knocked on. This was it, he had finally found her after many nights of research. He shuffled on his feet as his enhanced hearing picked up some movement from inside and he looked down at the pie in his hands. He made it this morning to give to the person in the apartment he was waiting in front of, but he had the strong urge to just knock again before the door unlocked and slowly squeaked open a bit. “Hullo? Who're you?”

Grant looked at the petite blonde boy that couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but obviously sick to the point of no return, quickly followed by a brunette man nearly running to grab the boy. “What are you doing idiot? Go back to bed. Seriously, the second I walked away you have to go and open the door.”

The little blonde groaned. “But Buuuuuck. I’m fine and I had to see who it was.”

Buck just scoffed, picking up the boy wrapped in a blanket, depositing him onto the couch to come back to the door. He held out a hand to Grant and smiled. “Hi. My name is James, but you can just call me Bucky.”

Grant smiled, shaking Bucky’s hand. “Um, hey. My name is Richard Walter, but most people call me Flip.” He awkwardly gave the pie to Bucky with a strained smile. “I’m sort of your neighbor, I moved in just to your left a week ago and I didn’t get a chance to introduce yourself. I mean, myself.” Grant knew he was messing up a bit, but he was nervous, really nervous. “I sort of won’t be here for long, but I just wanted to know something.” He took a deep breath, looking at Bucky sort of hopelessly. “Could I possibly talk to Sarah Rogers? You see, I sort of have this picture from when I was just a kid and she was in it and recently, my parents told me about her, well my adopted parents actually, but that doesn't matter right now. The thing is, I really need to ask her some questions about my real parents because she’s the only one left that could tell me, actually not just tell me, but I do have questions and would really like to know about my mom, but I’m sort of hoping to meet her to get an explanation about why she… gave… me…” Grant trailed off when he saw the look on Bucky’s face.

He placed a gentle hand on Grant’s shoulder, putting the pie down next to the door and stepping out of the apartment. “Um, Richard. Sorry, Flip. I don’t know how to put this lightly, but I’m sorry you can’t get the answers about your mom. Sarah Rogers died a while ago from cancer.”

Grant froze. “Oh. I’m really sorry you lost her. Are you her son?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Just a family friend.”

Grant nodded slowly, devastated about not being able to meet his mom, but carefully covering it up with an indifferent frown. “That’s okay, I just have someone to find then.” Grant just needed to find his twin, but it would be so much easier if he could just get a name instead of a bunch of loose ends.

Bucky nodded sadly. “I hope you find whoever you're looking for.”

Grant smiled kindly. “Yeah, so do I.” Then, he walked away to go back to his empty and cold apartment. “Say hello to your friend for me.” Waving at Bucky, he opened his own door and slipped into the empty single room apartment that he didn’t leave once for the next three weeks.

The next time Grant left was to go to a Fair that was in town. He left all of his weapons at home except for a simple pocket blade and got dressed back into the awful stuffy suit. He gently took off his dog tags that he had changed after his first mission when his Pa died, reading the lines there.

Grant S. Rogers 

987654320 T43 44 O

Grant then looked at the other tag he requested personally that listed his emergency family contacts in case his body was found due to a mission. 

SO Sgt Klaus L. Potts

SO Peregrine Falcon

SO Snowy Owl

SO Red Tailed Hawk

Special Operative Sergeant Klaus Louis Potts. If Grant ever died during a mission, Klaus would be the one to get the letter letting him know, later to receive whatever was left of Grant’s body. It was cruel irony as he left the dog tags in his empty room, if he died on this mission, nobody would ever know. Grant stepped out of his apartment, taking a deep breath to prepare him for what was to come. 

Clinging to a file under his arm, he passed Bucky’s apartment. It had been empty for a while and Grant had no idea where the brunette man had gone, but he was too busy to figure it out, he just had to get to the Stark Expo. The soldier walked briskly towards the Expo, weaving around pedestrians and dodging whenever someone stepped unexpectedly into his path. Ducking into an empty alleyway, Grant tried to find a shortcut to where he wanted to go, but he didn't expect to find someone there. Or more accurately, four someones. An old man was cornered against the brick wall, clutching his briefcase desperately as three other men were holding him at gunpoint. One man shifted his gun over to Grant and placed his finger on the trigger. "Put'ch yer hands up and empty yer pockets."

Grant bent down, keeping his eyes on the gun pointed at his head, slowly lowering his file to the ground and standing back up just as slowly, keeping his hands up. "Now listen, I've a little money on me, but I won't let you take it until you let that man go. If you don't let him leave, then I'm going to have to hurt you."

The three men scoffed and snickered until the man with the gun pointed at Grant took a few steps forward. "We're gonna take all yer money and ya can't do nuthun bout it. Now empty yer pockets."

Grant glared at the man. "Let the man go, I don't want this to get violent." The mugger rolled his eyes, poking Grant in the head with his gun. "Suit yourself. Sorry in advance if you have to go to the hospital." He quickly dropped to the ground, sweeping the legs out from under the guy with the gun and popped back up to tackle the two still standing. "Go! Get out of here, I will be fine, I'm used to this sort of stuff." The old man scrambled from the alley quickly as the three men with guns got back on their feet. Swiftly, Grant punched one of them in the stomach firmly enough to knock him out, but not strong enough to blast his intestines out of his back, and ducked as another man shot at him. He pulled the man's shirt forward sharply, letting go to let the momentum carry the man into the brick wall before turning to the last man. "Do you want to surrender now?" The last man let out a yell and fired his gun, only for Grant to dodge the bullet and kick him into the wall. "I guess not." The men obviously weren't professionals, so it was no surprise that they went down easily.

"Thank you young man." Grant looked up at the old man with a small smile.

He approached the man, picking up his file on the way, and stood a head taller than him at the least. "Why didn't you leave or call someone?"

The man chuckled. "Son, I don't think those men could possibly be a problem for you and I wanted to thank you properly for helping me." He held out his hand to Grant with a grin. "Doctor Abraham Erskine, at your service."

Grant hesitated. This was Doctor Erskine, the man who had taken him to Germany to be raised by one of his colleagues. "Flip Walter." Shaking Dr. Erskine's hand, Grant was reassured that the man couldn't possibly recognize him as the tiny, frail baby from twenty one years ago.

Erskine smiled loosely and the two men started walking towards the Stark Expo together. "So, Flip, do you want something for rescuing me?"

"Nah. I'm good." Grant shrugged.

Erskine raised an eyebrow. "Really? Are you sure that you don't want anything? I have money, food, influence."

Grant shook his head. "Really, I don't want anything from you."

"Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"Yes."

"You don't want a reward?"

"No. I really don't want a reward."

"I could get you in to meet the world known inventor and futurist, Howard Stark."

"I'm sure you could."

"You don't want to meet him?"

"Yes I do, but I know someone who wants to see him more and it would be unfair to him if I met Mr. Stark and he didn't." Grant's mind went drifting back to Klaus for a few moments. Knowing the brunette, he would probably freak or pass out from the sight of his Idol.

Erskine stopped, noticing Grant's file, and he stopped as well to make sure the man was alright. "I could get you into the army. A special program for the best of the best to have a chance to become a hero for their country."

Grant took a deep breath, looking at his file that was covered with a bit of dirt. "Please, Doctor Erskine sir. Stop asking. I don't want anything for helping you, I just ended up in the right place at the right time to help someone out. If I wanted food, money, influence, power, the chance to meet Mr. Stark, or even the ability to become a hero, I would do all of it myself instead of asking from other people."

Erskine nodded and started walking again. "Well then, that's all I needed to hear for it."

Grant looked at the man, shocked. "What? All you needed for what?" Erskine started walking into a restricted area with a pass, but the guards stopped Grant from entering. "Doctor! Doctor Erskine! What did you need? What does that mean?" Grant was incredibly confused at that point, the doctor a complete mystery. "Confusing old man!" Erskine turned back to Grant long enough to stick out his tongue like a child before slipping through a door, leaving Grant to mutter to himself. "An absolute child. How cryptic can one person get? What does he even want?" Grant just shook his head as he moved on, slipping through the crowd until he got to a stage with a big cloth covering what seemed to be a car. There was a large crowd surrounding the stage, so he decided to wait there and see what was going on. Moments later, Howard Stark walked out onto the stage and he started a speech. Grant grinned when he could understand every single word out of his mouth when many others couldn't because of the scientific talk that Mr. Stark layered on thick, but Grant had learned mechanics to work with his motorcycle and a lot of higher level sciences and mathematics for some of his infiltration missions, so he knew exactly what the genius was talking about. Genius served this man right because Grant was genuinely impressed with how he hooked up the motors and fans and energy supply to the car. The damn thing actually got off the ground! Grant promised to get Klaus in to meet this genius inventor, but he swore to high hell, someday he would help Howard Stark get that car to genuinely fly. Sure it crashed and burned in the literal sense that it fell to the ground and started itself on fire, but It was a beautiful piece of machinery. After the spectacle ended and Grant was finished having a man crush on a fucking car, he stepped back quickly to turn around right into someone. "Sorry!" When he looked up into the eyes in front of him, his breath caught. "Klaus?"

Bucky looked at Grant strangely. "Yeah, I'm not Klaus, but isn't that a German name?"

Grant grinned, showing off a bit. "а бьюкенен это русское имя." 

_ And Buchanan is a Russian name. _

Bucky laughed a bit, smiling. "Твой русский очень красивый. Как будто ты родился с этим." 

_ Your Russian is very beautiful. As if you were born with it. _

Grant smiled widely, clapping Bucky on the shoulder like an old friend. "Я выучил язык, когда был молодым." He smiled, making sure that he was clear and able to be understood. "Я выучил разные языки, чтобы люди чувствовали себя желанными."

_ I learned the language when I was young. I learned different languages to make people feel welcome. _

Bucky smiled gratefully and turned to look at the three women next to him, happy, but confused at the Russian. "Thank you for learning my language friend. It was a pleasure to speak in my mother's tongue after so long."

Grant shrugged. "I like learning different languages. I would have been able to speak with you to some level, even with Romanian or Dutch, so please, don't thank me for doing something I love."

Bucky laughed good naturedly. "You don't know how to accept praise well do you?"

Grant smiled sadly. "I've never been praised for anything so I don't know how to accept it."

"Ah, tough parents?" Bucky raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Grant shook his head. "Nah, tough job recently and bad experience in the past."

Bucky was silent for a few moments, thinking through some things before he perked up. "Hey, remember the sick guy who opened the door for you? His name is Steve. You'll quickly get used to praise if you look after him for a while. Do you think you could do that for me? Look after him until I get back?"

Grant nodded quickly. "Of course."

One of the girls tugged on Bucky's arm and he looked almost reluctant to leave. "Well, you make sure to watch him okay? You could probably find him somewhere in the military section of this Fair. Thank you Flip. You watch after my Stevie okay?" Grant nodded as Bucky was dragged away by his entourage of girls. Grant was smiling the whole time because it was sort of obvious how close the two of them were.

Grant quickly made his way over to the military section if the Fare where a section for enlisting rested, but after looking around for a while and not finding the small man, he decided that Steve must have gone home. His heart sank when he realized he couldn't actually watch out for Steve because of his mission, but his stomach dropped when he got into the enlistment area. There was a desk in front and he handed in his files that contained no flaws, then he got waved in, but he had forgotten how recruitment worked. More specifically, the many shirtless men sitting around and reading newspapers. He was herded into a changing area where he had to take off his clothes until he was only in his pants, socks, shoes, jacket, shirt, tie, undershirt, and suspenders all stuck in a bag that he got to clip a pin onto. It was an unfavorable position, but he kept his head held high when he walked out into the waiting room and heard the first strangled gasp of a whimper as someone saw all of the torture scars. Somehow, it's possible for bruises to scar as well when hit with enough force, so half of his torso was also faintly multicolored. Sitting down to wait his turn, Grant just picked up a newspaper and began reading as he listened to the whispering and gasps, pretending that none of this bothered him at all. When he finally got called, the whole room went silent as he walked up to the man sitting at the desk area, eyes glued to the scars. 

After walking up to the desk, the man opened his file, possibly looking for a reason to the mauled skin. "It just says here that you went through a hospital visit after some sort of familial dispute involving a car crash."

Grant nodded, he needed a cover story to explain away all of the scarring, so he had just taken a lot of things that could do damage and sort of smashed them together in some sick story. "Multiple car crashes sir, also an attempted bombing. Needed a lot of stitches."

The man just nodded. "You're going to have to go back to the medical check area to see if you can enlist with all of that." He gestured to the expanse of mauled skin and grimaced painfully. "You should go get your clothing."

Grant nodded. If his scars kept him out of the military, then he would have failed his mission. He just walked away to grab his clothing and then walked over to the medical check center where he would either be accepted or condemned to a lonely two years in Brooklyn with a sixteen year old child as his only human contact. When he walked in, one of the cubicles already had the curtain drawn, so he just moved over to the next one to wait for a doctor to come check him over. He waited for a few minutes as something happened in the next cubicle over, but he just laid down in the medical bed with his arms behind his head because if everyone else saw his scars, then why shouldn't the doctor?

"Richard Ellis Walter." Grant looked up to hear a familiar voice enter the room and looked over to see Doctor Erskine standing there with a clipboard. "Hello there Flip."

Grant smirked a bit. "Hey there Doctor. Come back to answer my question about what you meant?"

Erskine chuckled lightly and shook his head. "No, I apologize. But I do have an offer for you."

Grant frowned. "I told you I don't want any favors."

Erskine smiled a bit. "Good to see that you are holding up on that honorable mentality. Besides, you would have to work for this opportunity and I'm not handing out this offer to just anyone, only people who peak my interest."

"Why would I peak your interest?" Grant genuinely wanted to know. 

Erskine smirked mischievously. "That's classified. Now, do you want the opportunity or not?"

Grant thought about it for a while. If he didn't take this offer, he could get turned away from the military for his medical history with all of the scars, but if he did, he could be a guinea pig for some weird drugs. Fail the mission given to him or blow up because of a mad scientist. Fail mission or fiery death. "Fiery death it is. Make sure that if you blow me up in your experiment, it isn't too painful." Erskine looked thoroughly confused until Grant held out his hand. "That means yes, I'll do it."

Erskine grinned like a little kid on Christmas and quickly shook Grant's hand. "Welcome aboard Flip. You'll ship out tomorrow at 0700, so be prepared to pack up everything and leave."

Grant paled a bit. "Should I sell my extra stuff for charities before I go just in case?"

Erskine got a terrifying twinkle in his eyes and left with only one word. "Probably."

Nine hours later, the single duffle bag Grant had brought with him was packed with all of his items during this mission. He had packed away all of his weapons except for a small knife and sent them through postage back to a German drop point in Europe. He gently rubbed the dog tags in his pocket, running his thumb over a single name over and over while repeating it in his head. Special Operative Sergeant Klaus Louis Potts. The letters were ingrained into his mind, hoping to high hell that if he died during this mission, someone would be decent enough to send the body of a German spy back to the man he loved. It was torture to wait for the vehicle to pick him up, but it was even worse to know the ride brought him closer and closer to a possible death or a failed mission. To calm himself, Grant took his journal out of his bag and wrote about what happened, drawing a picture of Klaus, Astrid, Yvette, and Natalia on the next page.

"Nice drawing." Grant nearly jumped out of his skin as he witnessed a small man in oversized clothing and cap talk to him. He had thought that the pile to his left was just some supplies, not a small man crunched up into himself with a big backpack on his lap.

Grant quickly covered up the writing with one hand while using the other to tip the picture towards the man. "Um, yeah. Thanks. It's my family sort of."

The man leaned over to look at the drawing and his cap slipped farther down his face. "What do you mean by sort of?"

Grant looked to see if the front of the car was still separated from the back by bulletproof glass and metal, then shrugged a bit. "Well, I'm working on it. They are all my friends, but we are all close enough to be family."

The man let out a happy huff and leaned back into his seat. "I have someone like that. He's been my friend since childhood and now he's my boyfriend so that's sort of nice." A few moments passed before he realized what he said and quickly moved away from Grant, probably scared of getting the shit beat out of him. "I meant best friend. Sorry. Best friend, not boyfriend."

Grant just shrugged, closing his journal and rubbing the dog tags again. "Why not both? Why can't your best friend from childhood also be your boyfriend? That would just be really sweet and it would make a perfect story."

The small man let out a sigh of relief and relaxed a bit. "That would be a pretty great story."

The silence was comfortable for the rest of the ride to New Jersey, but Grant was still terrified of Klaus never knowing what happened if he died. The hours seemed to be dragged on to days and weeks in the damn vehicle as he rubbed Klaus's name over and over, taking it out of his pocket and rubbing his thumb over the name while clutching the tags to his chest. Once or twice, it drew attention from the small man, but he just held the tags tighter and the man turned away without really sparing a second glance. Eventually they pulled into a camp surrounded by a tall fence with a very tight security detail. It looked sort of like a prison. Grant took a deep breath, slipping his tags into his boot discreetly so nobody would see them, then climbed from the bed of the truck when it stopped, holding his duffle bag, followed immediately by the little man who was starting to look and sound familiar. There was a lot of commotion fussing with the two new recruits until they were both ushered into a building where everything they brought with them was searched and they were given tags to wear. Grant got a dirty look when the men searching his bag found the knife he had safely closed and secured, but he didn't get in trouble. Surprising because of his snide comments that received a few snickers. "It's like none of you would bring a knife when you get possibly kidnapped by a mad scientist." Erskine had gained the title mad scientist from Grant when he heavily implied that Grant might die and if that didn't raise some eyebrows, than what could? It really didn't help that he had to sign some "I'm totally fine with dying for science" forms. The whole thing was strange and sort of freaky if he did say so himself, but he couldn't say so himself because he had signed up for all of this shit. There was a lot of tests to be done, blood tests, breathing tests, urine tests, other tests that he really didn't want to speak about, and nobody told him the results since it wasn't important for him to know. The panic only got worse when he figured out that the small man in the fucking truck was Steven. Bucky's Steven. The guy Grant was supposed to protect Steven. The rest of the day passed quickly as it swarmed and buzzed with doctors and soldiers, possibly a few scientists scattered here or there, but the whole entire day was filled with tests, retests, and even more tests as they saw the other candidates through the day sparingly. Eventually, all seventeen of them were shoved into a building lined with cots housing just enough space for twenty people. Everything they had brought had been put under intense scrutiny before they were allowed to have it back, but all of their clothes had been taken and replaced with military issued cotton shirts and trousers in a weird color of green. Everyone had a space under their cot to keep their things, and Grant was a little bit relieved that these extremely intrusive people gave them a small amount of privacy. Before the lights went out for the night, all of the recruits gathered in the middle of the room, some sitting on the floor, others on the cots. Everyone kept staring at Steve and asking him questions since he was itty bitty, but he didn't seem to mind all too much as he answered the questions gladly. Everyone had their fill of breaks in privacy in the last twenty-four hours, so the questions were thankfully kept to a minimum of awkward until someone asked about his type of woman and little Steven went beet red. Grant quickly turned the attention away from the blushing boy by changing the subject to how uncomfortable all the probing was and asking if anyone else felt violated. The conversation quickly picked back up, gradually turning to how funny it was that there were no shirts in Grant's size because of how much muscle he had and was wearing one that was super tight and tiny. Taking a few minutes in the spotlight to keep eyes off of Steve, he complained about how the sleeves didn't cover his wrists and neck completely, letting his whip scars show. That started a giant ruckus of people asking how the hell he got whipped, and Grant regretted accidentally letting it slip. He made up some bullshit story about getting kidnapped by a traveling circus and getting whipped by the ringmaster, but when anyone asked, he changed the story to get a good laugh. There was the circus, a car crash, kidnapped when he was twelve, captured by Nazis, living as a slave to aliens on Mars, coming from the future in a time machine, being an immortal born in ancient Rome, but also just being born with a bad sickness that caused a lot of scarring. Most people elected that the car crash or sickness was the true story, but Grant refused to tell them the reason for the scars and nobody actually asked for real, not even about the few peeking out that were obviously put there precisely by a knife and looked older than the rest.

Time passed quickly after that, every day was the same. Wake up, morning wash and shave, get dressed, poked by doctors for an hour or two, eat, go for a run with the troops, train, eat, train, run, wash, three hours of doctors and scientists poking in places they shouldn't, a little while for talking with the recruits, sleep, repeat. They were monitored all day long by different people following them around with clipboards, but after Grant messed up once, he never wanted to ever again. It was the flag test where everyone was jumping for the flag except for him and Steve, the two of them were getting along thrillingly, and Grant thought it was so obvious what to do and was shocked that nobody else but Steve knew. They both understood what was happening, but Grant had insisted that Steve should take the flag because Grant would be able to run laps around the car as it was driving at full speed and Steve would die of exhaustion before he got halfway back. The rest of the recruits heard and started placing bets that Grant could beat the car back to base and even Ms. Carter and Doctor Erskine were doubtful that Grant could keep up, but he rose to the challenge once Steve picked up the flag. They had called ahead on the radios to set up someone to judge the match and Ms. Carter was to take up the wheel while Grant would be running on foot. Little did he know was that the freakishly obsessed scientists also set up cameras and stuff to record his running. When he heard the bang of a gun and the car took off, Grant ran right beside the vehicle, slowly falling behind to give a quick wave to Steve before speeding up again to pull ahead of the car. To give her credit, Ms. Carter sure did give Grant a hell of a race, but it was a close loss for her. He was taken to the labs for the rest of the day to be examined and tested, but after fifteen hours going on sixteen, he was finally allowed to go back to his cot and rest. Grant made sure not to do anything superhuman after that, ignoring the quiet noises that the scientists would test him with, pretending that he was still colorblind and just a tad near sighted, maybe even eating his whole supper with a burning in his mouth after just one little bit of hot pepper. The scientists were unknowingly overloading Grant's senses and making them go into overdrive, causing him to suffer the whole day as he could feel the little hairs on his skin brush on his shirt or the tightness of the shirt suddenly became painful. Grant was overloaded so much that he could smell the shampoo that one of the doctors used from over half of the camp away and it quickly reduced him to a shivering mess every night in both pain and over sensitivity of every single place on his body. Grant lasted three days until it became worse then the torture he was put through after the Red Room and he just let himself wake up screaming. He could see each and every thread in the tent fabric above him as the light tried to rip his eyes apart and his sight was going absolutely crazy, looking through the tiny holes between the threads in the tent, multiple spectrums that humans couldn't see adding to the confusion and pain. He could hear every breath in the camp like it was thunder and even the wind was screaming into his eardrums violently. Grant could smell the bread that was baked five days ago, the exhaust and gas of vehicles, trees, leaves, dirt, animals, the shampoo of everyone all mixed together, and even the body odor of others. The taste in his mouth has horrible and he could taste everything in the air from the dust to the oxygen and different things that floated through the air. The thing Grant cursed the most though was the ability to feel things. Everything was painful, clothing on his skin, laying in bed, his hair that he just wished he could rip out, even the pressure of gravity itself was making him feel as if an elephant was standing on him.

After the spectacle of everyone in the camp being woken up by screams too loud to be human, Grant was locked in a room underground that blocked out all light, sound, smells, and the very air was sucked out and replaced for two days with no food or water. Soon, his senses starting falling back to his normal superhuman and he was let out after a while to sleep. He had fallen asleep right away and woke up in the morning, nobody asking about what happened until later that night. Grant was obviously monitored more than everybody else after those bastards proved that he had abilities a little better than normal, but they could also be made stronger through extensive over use. They were taking his blood every day and purposefully setting off one of his senses at a time to see if the blood content would change if they took more from him, but now he wasn't even having normal hours with the other recruits because he would be taken to the lab after morning wash and returned to the troops before the half an hour of talking before sleep. He would do his best to not hurt himself and clearly indicated what sense the scientists had tried to overload that day by wearing earplugs, a blindfold, a nose pin for swimming, or just hugging a pillow or shoving something tasteless into his mouth. Once, someone had asked how he became a little more than human. Grant just rubbed the scars on his wrist that he put there himself in his teens after his transformation into this body, but the person who asked knew not to press right away. It was a painful two weeks, but eventually even the hardest assassins crack under the pressure of having your mind and body forcefully thrown into situations that can't be controlled. In the end, Grant cracked. The scientists strapped him to a table with loud music and different rotting fruits and foods with bright lights shining in his eyes and a constant drip of something sticky and sweet dropping onto his tongue as his mouth was held open with thick metal poles. The first and second days were torture, but the third day had him screaming and begging to be shot. The fourth day was when his voice ripped apart and blood was added to the awful mix of the disgustingly sweet mixture and rotting food as he writhed on the table in pain. The fifth day was when he started having seizures and had both a stroke and a heart attack within a few hours, the serum keeping him alive through all of it, but he wouldn't stop screaming long enough for his vocal cords to heal. The rest of that day, his heart kept stopping at random times and being brought back by the electrical current that ran through the metal table. The seizures got to a point where the continued repetition caused Grant to flop around on the table against his restraints for hours, metal and leather cutting into his skin as his breathing all but stopped and he started slamming his head against the metal table. Then halfway through the sixth day, everything stopped. The violent flopping stopped, the eyes rolling into the back of his head stopped, the bloody screams stopped, his breathing stopped, and his heart stopped. That was it for the experiment, so the scientists turned off the music and blinding lights, took out the rotting food, turned off the drip of the sweet mixture, and took the metal out between his teeth. They left him strapped to the table there as the serum struggled to restart his heart without the proper electrical current and his breathing tried to restart through the blood in his throat and covering his whole face. A last little shock from the table gave the serum enough juice to start pumping blood again and Grant just sat there in silence for hours as he healed. The scientists that thought he had died were very confused to see him alive on the table, strapped in the same place that they left him almost a whole day earlier. They just threw him back into the camp just about as responsive as a vegetable, but by the end of the day, he knew that he needed to get out. Grant sent an encoded letter to the safe house in Europe via express mail and waited. Just half a week left and the evil bastard Erskine would pick whoever it was that got the refined version of whatever was in Grant's blood. They would get the stuff that didn't make you go insane or have seizures because of overloading senses, the stuff that let you see like a normal human, the stuff that helped control your emotions, the stuff that was more refined. Sure, Grant had more raw power, agility, strength, and flexibility, but the healing was a bitch when it came to trying to kill yourself. He couldn't get drunk or overdose on pills, his skin healed to fast for bleeding out, someone would find him before he could hang himself properly, and throwing himself off of a building wouldn't work. He had to hope that help came soon or else he would steal a gun and pray to god a bullet through the head would do the trick. 

There was no surprise when the last day came around and Erskine had picked Steve for his serum. There was also no surprise when Steve clung to Grant like a wounded puppy, begging him to come with since Bucky couldn't. The last thing that wasn't surprising was when they drove away, Grant noticed the rest of the recruits being led out into the yard at gunpoint and he could hear the gunshots once the heavy gate closed. Grant had everything of his (actually just his knife, journal, dog tags, and a few shirts) in his duffel bag to bring with him as he rubbed the name on his tags inside his bag. Grant had them with him because either he was going to be sent back to Germany today or he was going to be killed, but there was no way in hell he was going to die without Klaus's name around his neck. Grant was tense the whole ride back to Brooklyn, holding right to Steve's hand. "Aren't you afraid Steven?"

Steve looked up into Grant's eyes. "Of what?"

Grant bit his lip in worry. "That they’ll do the same thing to you that they did to me."

Steve shook his head. "Why would they create a super soldier to experiment on if they need them to fight a war?"

Grant shrugged hopelessly and slumped in his seat, still not fully recovered after the six days of begging to die. "I'm just scared for you."

Steve squeezed Grant's hand and just leaned into the hulk of a man gently comforting him.

When they got to the antique shop, Steve walked like it was his wedding, but Grant walked like it was his funeral. They watched as Ms. Carter greeted them and introduced them to the man who built all of the machines, Howard Stark. Suddenly, Grant perked up and smiled as he shook the inventor's hand firmly. "Hello Mr. Stark, can I ask you a few questions?"

Howard lit up and smiled genuinely. "I would love to answer your questions!" Then his face froze up a bit and his media smile came on. "Are they questions about the car at the Expo?"

Grant nodded. "Actually, yes."

Howard faltered a bit before struggling to keep the smile on his face. "Alright, go ahead and ask me anything."

Grant nodded. "So, were the blades on the fan rotating clockwise or counterclockwise?"

Howard looked confused for a moment. "Clockwise. Easiest way to program the technical parts."

Grant smiled like the sun was on his face and nearly started jumping with excitement. "Well that's where your right, clockwise is always easiest, but the current of electricity in the wiring I saw on the bottom was going counterclockwise and that slowed down the spinning blades too much to keep it in the air."

Howard beamed, a fire lit in his eyes. "I knew it! I should have switched the wiring in the motors to reverse the sequence of events! That way it would have had the blades cut through the air smoother-"

"While still catching enough air to get off of the ground for a longer period of time." Grant quickly finished Howard's sentences. "Having the fan blades go counterclockwise also puts less strain on the specific design of motor you were using, so there would be-"

"More power with less of a mess! Less strain on the motor means-"

"Less of a chance of shorting out. Exactly. And that-"

"Adds even more time for the car to be off of the ground-"

"While still running on the same amount of energy-"

"That was originally used." Howard's eyes were wide with awe at someone who could keep up with his train of thought so well that they could pick up any sentence. "Someone find me a goddamn ring."

Grant laughed genuinely for the first time in a while. "I can't tell if you're joking or not."

Howard had a giant lopsided grin on his face, apparently not sure himself until his face broke into a huge grin. "I was before, but now I'm not. I'm serious about this!" He dragged Grant by the arm over to Ms. Carter and gestured for her to come closer. "Pegs! Peggy! I know your busy but I need you!"

She stopped her conversation with Doctor Erskine and Steve with a quick "Just a moment please" before turning to Howard. "What did you do this time?"

Howard chuckled, pulling a blushing Grant forward by the arm and linking their elbows together. "I fell in love Pegs! I need a ring so I can propose to him before someone else notices the smarts that come with this hot hunk of muscles." 

Grant's face went fire hydrant red in embarrassment as Ms. Carter laughed. "Howard, how about you propose after asking him out first."

Howard paused for a second, stunned. "I knew there was something I was forgetting."

Grant smiled shyly, placing a hand on Howard’s shoulder. “Look, I’m very flattered, but shouldn’t we be preparing for Steven’s procedure?”

Howard nodded quickly, thankfully releasing Gant from his clutched to get his flaming face under control. “That’s right, I still need to do the second machinery check.” He quickly ran off to poke around the big pill shaped coffin type thing in the middle of the room, completely absorbed into his work.

Steve quickly dragged Grant away from the bustle of the procedure room into the room where he would change into the clothes he was given. “Okay, so now I’m actually sort of panicking. That metal thing looks too much like a fucking coffin to be a coincidence. Do you think there’s any way I could give my place up to someone else?”

Grant shook his head. "There is nobody else."

Steve paled. "So, the gunshots I heard when we were leaving the camp… oh god. They killed them all." He started to breathe heavily as his hands ran through his hair. "I can't do this! I'm going to die and Bucky will never know how! I'm sorry, I can't do this! I need to get out! I want to go!" Steve grabbed Grant's shirt in his tiny fists, quickly falling into an asthma attack. "You have to get me out of here. Please Flip. Get me out! I don't want to die. I don't want to die!"

Grant wrapped his arms gently around Steve and they sank to the floor. "I'll try my best. Question, how do you feel about going to Germany?"

Steve caught his breath and clung to Grant's shirt desperately. "If they are making me a soldier just to run tests and put me through the torture you went through, I would gladly go to Germany. Just please, you can't let them make me into some sort of test pet."

Grant held Steve close, the smaller man fitting right into his arms. "I promise you Steven, I won't let them lock you up. You will be a hero, just like you always wanted." He gently ran his hand over Steve's hair to calm the small man before Ms. Carter walked in to see both of them on the floor.

"Oh." Her eyes went wide at the lingering signs of Steve's mental breakdown and stepped forward carefully to place a hand of Grant's shoulder. "Is he alright?"

Grant nodded silently. "Just a few nerves and you know, he has asthma that is a problem at the best times." He carefully made sure that Ms. Carter just thought it was an asthma attack instead of the complete mental breakdown it was. When she left, Grant looked down at Steve. "When do you want to leave?"

Steve took a deep breath. "Later. I want to go right after the procedure weather if works, fails, or kills me, I want you to get me the hell out of here by whatever means are necessary."

Grant nodded. "Got it. If you get liquidated though, I'm still going to carry you out in a jar."

Steve winced visibly. "Not a good thought to think right now. I've got to get ready, can you step out?"

Grant nodded before opening the door and stepping out with a sad wave into the room. He waited for a few minutes until Steve slipped out in a pair of loose white pants and the two of them made eye contact once before Steve was whisked away to be strapped down into the open coffin. Grant was ushered up into the viewing area with Ms. Carter and he looked around a few times in a panic, looking for exit points. He heard a cough behind him and turned to see his saving grace. Heinz Kruger had been sent to infiltrate the scientific section of the US military half a year before Grant had and now he was here to get him out. He pulled the man to the side out of reach from prying ears and quickly started talking. "Change of plans, the recruit will be coming with us when we leave. Erskine plans to use him as an experiment before administering the serum to the rest of the soldiers, so we need to destroy whatever is left of the serum and grab the recruit."

Kruger frowned. "Why not steal the serum and destroy the recruit?"

Grant glared daggers at the man that quickly went pale. "They can use the blood of a dead man fool. Steal the recruit and destroy the serum."

Kruger nodded and the two men parted to watch the procedure take place. Grant was obviously terrified whenever Erskine got too close to Steve with that insane look in his eyes, but soon the metal coffin shut and the power was turned on. He unknowingly walked towards the door, putting his hand wearily on the doorknob as the machine started up and the power levels were called out. When Steve started screaming and the bright light filled the room, Grant slammed open the door and prepared to jump from the platform to the floor until Steve said to keep going with the procedure, so he just stood there, halfway climbed onto the railing still waiting to jump off. 

"100% power, preparing replacements." Howard Stark cringed at his own voice before moving to hit a green button to the left of Steve's coffin.

Ms. Carter slammed out of the room with a frantic look on her face. "Doctor! You told me the replacement memories were for emergencies!"

The light in the coffin was still going strong, but between the strangled screams, Steve managed to talk. "The motherfucking WHATS?!"

Grant just jumped, landing on his feet in a way that he made sure was menacing as he approached Erskine. "What are you planning Erskine?"

The doctor just scowled. "We can't have him remember you Grant Rogers."

Grant felt his fury flare up as he charged at the doctor with a war cry. "You knew! Bastard!" Erskine just laughed before hitting the green button. Everybody froze as the lights flickered dangerously and electricity swarmed in the very air until all of it was sucked into the coffin, causing a horrible scream to rip through the whole room. It was a scream that was filled with pain and fear, but it was also a scream that made Grant give up his want to punch Erskine in the face to go rip apart the metal coffin. There was chaos all around him as he had to throw a few scientists out of the way to get to Steve while Ms. Carter was screaming for Grant to rip it apart and Howard was trying to get to the machine with a crowbar. Howard caught Grant's eye as he slammed one of the scientists in the face with the blunt side of the crowbar and he saw pain there but also understanding as the two of them did their best to get through the swarm of scientists guarding Steve as his screams got louder. There was gunfire being exchanged all over the room and soon enough, everything was filling with smoke as different things blew up and started the building on fire. Grant got one hand onto the metal container, immediately shoving his hand into the metal painfully hard, causing it to break like paper under the unbridled rage of a super soldier. He quickly ripped off the rest of the metal as Howard guarded him, slamming the crowbar between the legs of anyone that got too close with the sharp part. Grant froze, looking at the man in front of him and he saw his own face slowly becoming conscious. Steve looked exactly like him. Did he even know Steve's last name? Had he ever asked? Grant Steven Rogers. Steven Rogers. Son of a bitch. Suddenly, something big exploded behind him and he saw that almost the whole room was on fire, but Kruger was standing by the exit, aiming his gun at Erskine while facing off against Ms. Carter. "God damn it Kruger! Pull the fucking trigger!" Kruger scowled, glaring at Ms. Carter as he lowered his gun and she lowered hers before he lunged to the right, grabbing one last blue vial and running for the door. "Kruger! Traitor!"

A gunshot rang through the smoke and Ms. Carter looked on in horror as Erskine fell to the ground, a bullet wound in his chest. Kruger glared at Grant before lowering his gun once again and sprinting out the door. Grant looked over to Erskine to see a man bent over him before that man got up uneasily, glaring around the room. It was Steve and he wanted revenge. Howard quickly threw a shirt at Steve and the unsteady blonde put it on, running to the door like a newborn giraffe and sprinting after Kruger. Grant glared once at Howard before grabbing unconscious scientists and throwing them over his shoulders, the other scientists already having run from the fire consuming the room. Ms. Carter and Howard were already dragging the dead body of Erskine out of the room and they were quickly followed by Grant carrying five different scientists with considerable crowbar welts on their heads. They got outside where a crowd was waiting and so we're firemen, so Grant gladly handed off his comatose passengers to the nearest paramedic. 

Howard's face was covered in so much soot and dirt that he was almost unrecognizable until he spoke. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Grant shook his head, looking at the burning building behind him and grabbing Howard's arm for stability. "No. No, I'm fine."

Howard nodded and examined Grant head to toe. "Are you sure you aren't missing anything? Fingers, toes, hair?"

Grant knew that Howard meant limbs, but his hand automatically came up to check if his tags were still there. He breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing his thumb over Klaus's name, but there wasn't a name there. He was wearing his bastard tags. "Shit. My tags." Grant ripped off the chain and pulled away from Howard. "I have to go back in!"

In a panic, Howard threw himself at Grant, wrapping his arms around the man to keep him there. "No! Don't do it! Leave the tags until the fire dies down, please!"

Grant detached the genius from his body and smiled softly. "You'll see me again someday. Don't worry."

Howard looked up at Grant, tears in his eyes. "Nobody has ever been able to stand me before when I talk about my inventions. You were different and you didn't care about whether or not I actually wanted to marry you. Usually, I would have chased everyone else away already."

Grant grabbed Howard's hand, squeezing it kindly. "You were a good friend."

Howard squeezed back and slowly let Grant go. "That sounds like goodbye."

Grant just nodded and ran back into the burning building as the firemen screamed at him to get back, trying to stop him as he jumped straight through a collapsing wall. He ran through the burning shop with his shirt covering his mouth and nose, running into the back room that was covered in flames. The stairs were gone and Grant had no way back up once he jumped down into the burning room, but he still ran to the other side. Burning beams fell all over and he did his best to dodge them, occasionally getting hit in the back or arm as he scrambled through burning piles of debris and over dead computer consoles. When he got to the room Steve had changed in, Grant kicked down the flaming door and entered the room that had fire crawling up its walls and falling from the ceiling. The wooden table in the center of the room was quickly threatening to burn away as the flames crept closer to the so far untouched duffle bag. Grabbing it quickly, he ran back through the flaming room to the door above his head, backing up a few feet and jumping as hard as he could. Grant barely made it, but he still rolled to a stop after his feet caught on the bottom of the doorframe. Getting up and running for the front of the antique shop, he reached the door to the main shop right as the ceiling collapsed and fell onto thousands of dollars worth of burning merchandise. Through the burning ceiling matter, he could see Howard standing with the crowd, arms wrapped around Ms. Carter as they both stared into the flames, begging for some sort of miracle. Grant bit his lip as the smoke burned his eyes and lungs, but he eventually turned away, shoving his way to the actual back of the store where he found a door burned off of its hinges that he climbed over to escape the burning building. Grant ran down the alley, taking big gulps of less smokey air as he tried to get as far away as possible from the fire. Suddenly, an enormous explosion threw him forward through the air, sending him slamming into the ground. There were a few moments where the flash had to fade from Grant's eyes, leaving his ears to ring uncomfortably as everything became muffled. He got to his feet slowly, wiping away the blood that was pouring from his nose and kept walking, trying not to limp too much as he tried to get to the docs where there was always two emergency submarines waiting to take any compromised Hydra agents from America to a large sub floating around somewhere between there and Europe. He stuck to the alleys, dripping blood from his ears and nose, but Grant did his best not to leave a trail as he made his way over to the docks where the police had surrounded the whole area in caution tape. Kruger, that idiot. Did he seriously think it was a good idea to run directly to the escape vessels? Grant grimaced at the ache in his ribs and the muffled sounds around him, but he made his way a couple hundred yards away from the crime scene to slip into the freezing water and swim to the docks slowly. After an hour or so, Grant got to one of the small black submarines and pulled himself inside dripping wet, pressing the big red emergency button that would call him to the large sub that would only take a few hours to get to with how fast the black craft could go. Grant swallowed thickly as the submarine pulled him away from the light of the surface until it was only a dim glow and he closed his eyes, finally letting the exhaustion that had seeped into his bones take its toll.

\----------

When Grant opened his eyes to look at Steve, the man was whiter than a ghost and very green in the cheeks. Grant pulled a mind bucket out of the air and tossed it at Steve as the blonde vomited a few times into it. Grant got up to grab a towel to hand it to his brother. "Steven, are you alright?"

Steve looked up with horror clear on his face, shaking his head. "They replaced my memories? Are all of them fake?"

Grant shrugged. "Not all of them are fake. I took the liberty of poking around a bit in the beginning and I believe just the ones about the camp and Doctor Erskine are fake. It wasn't as good of a time as you remember."

Steve nodded slowly. "I think that's okay with me. I don't really want to know how bad it actually was."

Grant smiled. "That's good. At least you weren't subjected to experiments like the original plan. That scene with saving the kid at the docks was helpful as well to get you to a decent place in your life instead of lab rat duty."

Steve looked down at his feet in silence, the stress and headache pounding the inside of both his and Grant's head. "You… is it really as bad as it looked? The whole time in your memory, I could feel what you felt, but I was locked out when you went through all of the overstimulation. It looked horrible."

Grant just shrugged. "I didn't want you to go through that."

Steve glared at his brother. "You didn't want me going through that, but you put yourself into it? What's wrong with you?"

Grant summoned a thick roll of paper from the air and let it roll out onto the floor, the paper rolling down the hall. "It's alphabetized."

Steve snorted and covered his face with his hands. "Did you have that ready just for an occasion like this?"

Grant nodded. "It makes people laugh. Besides, they're only memories so I don't really feel the pain. It has always been locked away for me too. Trauma and all that good stuff."

Steve shook his head slowly. "You're an idiot."

Grant grinned. "At least I have a nice ass."

Steve smiled softly. "Despite your fucked up past, there were some good parts. Like Howard. He's exactly like Tony with the flirting and also because both of them form strong bonds with anyone that can deal with the advancement and raw intensity of their minds for more than a few moments. It's almost sweet but also sad when you think about how they get attached immediately to anyone just as smart as them. It must have been hard for Howard to lose you after finally meeting someone that could keep up effectively with his mind."

Grant sighed. "Yeah… it was a nice feeling to have someone that understood my mind." He moved around on the table for a bit before pulling a mug of coffee out of the air and sipping on it slowly. "You want to know what, I'm going to write him a letter."

Steve's eyes went wide in surprise. "After a whole year of him thinking you died?"

Grant just shrugged. "It's Howard Stark. The weirdest thing in his life wouldn't be getting letters from a dead man." He smiled. "When we get back to the camp, I'm going to start writing right away."

Steve smiled at his brother grimly. "We have to walk away from this one first, right now we're just waiting for someone to rescue us."

Grant nodded quickly. "Well, I'm not one to complain about being the damsel in distress once in a while. As long as the wait isn't boring then I'm all good."

Steve laughed halfheartedly and stood up, stretching his arms and legs. "Well then, we should probably move somewhere more comfortable because I have a feeling that this is going to be a long wait and a lot of stories."

Grant nodded, hopping off of the kitchen table and walking over to Steve and Bucky's room to plop himself down on the bed. "Come on Steven. You owe me a couple of stories about Bucky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Steve knows that Grant had a history with him before. That's weird I guess.


End file.
